


Les Fleurettes

by LumBabsFan



Series: The "Romance" Series [1]
Category: Beauty and the Beast (1991)
Genre: Father sells daughter, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Abortion, Multi, Slight Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-23
Updated: 2018-07-23
Packaged: 2019-06-14 21:44:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 41,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15398106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LumBabsFan/pseuds/LumBabsFan
Summary: Before she was a maid at the prince's castle, Babette was a showgirl at the infamous den of iniquity, La Fleur Noire. This is her story.





	1. Bargains in the Night

**Author's Note:**

> Babette © Disney  
> All Original Characters © myself
> 
> [This is Book I of what I have since deemed The "Romance" Series. The series takes its name from a prior story that I've written, as the 'books' were written out of order.
> 
> Les Fleurettes debuted on the interwebs in November 2005, running 14 chapters until it concluded in April 2006.
> 
> I had touched upon Babette's backstory as I saw her in a prior work, and just got the urge to greatly expand upon it. Hence why most of the story is her, and a lot of original characters. Lumière does make a brief cameo appearance in a future chapter, and is the only other character from the BatB universe to be featured. This is all about the lady, this time around.
> 
> Cliched to say that I really was proud of this one. This marked the first story that I wrote that could've ever come close to being completely original. Back when, that was something to be proud of. Not surprising, I still am.]

If he did not know where he was going, Adrien would have been doomed that disturbing night. Thankfully, the road to _La Fleur Noire_ was not one that any man could forget. But damn the fog, he hated it with a passion! He hated many things, especially his own life, but tonight, all would be atoned for. Tonight, he would be rid of the one curse that had haunted him for so many years, that which destroyed everything he had.

Lifting the bottle he carried to his lips, Adrien took a long, comforting swig of…whatever the hell was in the blasted thing. Looking inside it, he shrugged, not caring to figure out what it was. It was liquor; that was all he needed to know. Liquor, the only thing he could still rely on, the only thing that had not changed or disappeared from his life. Liquor was his best friend.

And one that he had to control for a little while longer, he realized, feeling the euphoric results of such drinking begin to take hold of him. Reluctantly, he shoved the small bottle into his vest pocket. He could not be drunk right now. First, the meeting, then drinking, and then if he was lucky, maybe D’Araignée would let him have a woman on the side. It would be the least she could do with him ready to offer her such a hefty payment of debts.

Shakily, as he finally approached the doorstep of _La Fleur Noire_ , Adrien gripped the doorknob, trying to regain more coherency than he had at the moment. Asking himself the usual mental questions, who he was, where he was, et cetera, he nodded with a satisfied grin when he was certain that he had answered them all correctly. Good, he was not as bad off as he thought, and with that reassurance, he went inside the one place he felt he could ever call home.

Loud, raucous shouts of men coupled with the beauty, grace, and willingness of women, all were a part of the dance hall’s sinful charm. Outside in the real world, a supposedly reasonable place, there were too many rules, too much to worry about, but inside here, life was everything it should be. No responsibilities, no reality. All it stood for was pleasure in whatever form one saw fit to revel in. Returning home to Paris was not official until Adrien stepped foot inside these walls.

Sitting at his usual table, Adrien waited patiently for D’Araignée, relieved that for the first time in a long time, he did not have to hastily think up any stories to keep her from throwing him back out into the streets. This one simple meeting, one that he should have thought of years ago, would surely be enough to repay the old vulture every franc he owed her.

Speaking of the pathetic bag of bones, Adrien could not resist laughing mockingly as D’Araignée herself took the seat across from him. As usual, her unpleasant scowl bore into him, silently threatening to give him the boot.

Holding out a bony hand, D’Araignée snarled, “Payment up front, Adrien.”

“Quick, someone get me a watch!” he called to no one in particular, although over the din, he knew no one could hear him anyway. “I think she finally beat her own record in preparation to kick me out!”

“Payment, now, unless you want me to set the dogs on your sorry arse.”

Adrien only leaned back in his chair, comfortably resting his feet on the table. “Such language for a lady!” he laughed. “Why don’t you just make Aubrey do the same and kill two birds with one stone? I get a woman and you see me in pain.”

“I am not going to tell you again,” D’Araignée warned. “Pay or get out. It is not a hard decision, even for a drunk like you.”

Adrien returned his feet to the ground, giving himself elbow room as he leaned forward on the table. “It all depends on what you call payment.”

“You are wasting my time, and everyone knows that is not a very safe thing to do.”

“That is the last thing I am doing, old woman,” Adrien replied confidently. “You asked me to pay you back, and I can do that, so long as you do not expect money. The way I see it, I have something to give you that is worth so much more than that.”

D’Araignée looked him over as she scoffed, “Oh I’m sure. What happened then, Adrien? You swabbed some royal’s sailboat deck better than the other good little boys?”

Adrien’s expression grew mockingly hurt. “Madame D’Araignée, please, I am trying to offer you my most prized possession and you tease?”

“The spit on the streets is more valuable than anything you could offer me.”

Adrien nodded, as if in realization. “Ah, _oui_ , I forget. Not everyone sees how you treat your girls, _madame_ ; perhaps you are right then. Another girl would be completely worthless to you.”

D’Araignée raised an eyebrow. “Another girl?”

Adrien nodded. “ _Absolument_ , I thought I would be nice, save you the trouble of having to get another one yourself, since I already have a nice little piece of flesh to offer you. But if you would rather I keep her to myself…”

“Now, now, Adrien, jumping to conclusions is not the most polite thing to do,” D’Araignée interrupted, attempting, and failing, to keep the interest from her tone. The man was not trustworthy, but with her luck, this would be the one time he would be offering her something useful. “Just…tell me more first. What kind of girl are we talking about?”

Adrien maliciously grinned, hearing her take the bait; now all he had to do was reel her in. Just like every other woman, all he had to do was play his words and offers correctly, and she was his.

“A little young right now, she just turned twelve a couple of days ago,” he said. “May take a few more years before she is ready to do anything worthwhile for customers, but that’s plenty of time for learning, _oui_?”

“Perhaps,” D’Araignée agreed slowly. “As long as she is smart enough to clean and pour wine, that could keep the other girls rested for everything else.”

“ _Exactamente!_ ” Adrien cried. “Exactly my point. She comes from a line of cleaning women.”

“Aha!” D’Araignée cried, pointing at him in accusation. “There is the catch!”

“Catch? What catch?”

“I do not need girls who can only clean, Adrien, you know that,” D’Araignée growled. “I need girls who are pleasing to look at. This place has a reputation to keep when it comes to only the most beautiful women. What man wants to come here to stare at an ugly kitchen wench all night? This girl of yours may be a hard worker, but how am I to know that she is not some disgusting little urchin you picked up off the street?”

“Because the mother is one hell of a sight for sore eyes,” Adrien said with promise. “Dark hair, beautiful eyes, the tiniest waist I’ve ever seen, and the child shows every sign of following in her footsteps.”

D’Araignée heaved an exasperated sigh. “I can not promise anything and demand to see her first,” she said. “Who is she, anyway?”

It had to be a miracle how Adrien managed to keep any look of loathing from his face as he suddenly had a sickening taste in his mouth. His grin growing wider, however, he answered very simply and casually.

“My daughter.”


	2. Adrien and Celie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Babette © Disney  
> All Original Characters © myself

_Twelve years ago…_

Sleep. All Celie wanted to do was sleep. In her final month of expecting, the baby due any day to be exact, the only person that she continued to work for was an elderly gentleman next door, Monsieur Perrot, who did not have any family nearby to help care for him. But even when he insisted that she only do small tasks to keep her off her feet, Celie persistently did more, and at the end of the day, exhaustion began to catch up with her.

Leaning against her locked door, Celie paused to take a deep breath, trying to calm the baby, who was extremely active today, kicking vigorously at its mother. Convinced that her every action affected her child as if it had already come into this world, Celie caressed her middle tenderly as she hummed softly.

“Such childish ideas,” most of the neighbors said of her. “But then again, she is only a child herself; why expect any less?”

“Although she acted quite the adult when she met that scoundrel of hers,” others responded. “Now look at her! A baby on the way and still not married, for shame!”

But Celie paid them little attention; painful as it was, she did not regret her actions. She was simply a young woman in love when she had met Adrien in the town square one afternoon last summer. The merchant ship he served aboard had docked earlier that morning, and the entire crew was ordered to bring the cargo straight to Paris.

_Dieu_ , how clearly she remembered that day…

ooo

_Celie had not even finished her personal errands when she realized that she was late for one of her clients, of all people the well-bred, but snobbish Madame de Ponay. Not paying attention to where she was going, she ran straight into an unknowing passer-by, causing an inevitable fall._

_Apologizing profusely as she tried to gather her things, Celie stopped when she looked up to find an understanding, handsome gentleman assisting her._

“ _Can I help you carry any of those,_ mademoiselle _?” he asked, gesturing to some of her heavier bundles._

_Celie shook her head, blushing the brightest shade of red. “_ Monsieur _is far too kind, but_ non, merci _. I should have been somewhere ages ago, and truly, it will be faster if I do this myself.”_

_As she walked passed him, he called to her, “In that case, I will just have to wait for a better time to assist you then!”_

**ooo**

And he most certainly had, Celie recalled with a smile as she made her way upstairs to her room. The very next day, a glorious day off, she returned to the square to complete everything she had not finished when she saw Adrien again.

**ooo**

“ _Back again so soon,_ mademoiselle _?” he asked from his seat at a café table as she passed._

_Celie turned around, startled, but smiled at seeing his pleasant face. “Ah, the kind monsieur from yesterday,” she said, moving to join him._

_Adrien simply rose from his seat to pull the other invitingly out for her, and she did not object. When he sat down again, he asked, “Now, I must know, and beg of you to tell me. What is such a beautiful young woman like yourself doing here alone?”_

_Celie grinned, lowering her eyes coyly; attention from any man had always been one delight in life that she had enjoyed since the moment she had first been complimented. “Only if I may ask the same of you.”_

_Adrien raised an eyebrow, chuckling under his breath. “Being at sea for too long among so many people, I prefer to keep to myself when we dock…unless of course, a stunning beauty happens to grace me with her presence.”_

“ _At sea?” she asked. “_ Monsieur _is a sailor then?”_

“ _Quite right,_ mademoiselle _,” he confirmed with a nod. “And my name is Adrien; ‘_ monsieur’ _is far too formal.”_

“ _For two people who just met a few seconds ago, formal is the only way of greeting, Monsieur Adrien.”_

“ _Please, just Adrien, I insist,” he said. “And I disagree. Formal is the only way of greeting for two strangers. Now if I remember, I did have the honor of bumping into you yesterday, which means that we have met before, and if you were to tell me your name, then we would surely no longer be strangers.”_

_Celie smiled adorably. “Well, when you put it so nicely,” she said, laughing gently. Holding out her hand in a friendly manner, she said, “Celie, Monsieur Adrien,_ enchanté _.”_

_Adrien smirked, accepting her hand and drawing it to his lips. “The pleasure is most definitely all mine.”_

**ooo**

By the time the memory had finished playing out in her mind, Celie was resting uncomfortably in her bed, with Madame Maigny, her neighbore and midwife, snoring in the chair nearby. It was a wonder her pregnancy had made it this far, she mentally sulked with a sigh, between the infuriating snoring, her continuing to work, and Adrien himself.

Ever since that day in the square, her courtship with Adrien had been the highlight of her life. As long as he was in Paris, the pair was inseparable, day and night, the latter especially ever since their first together before he left for the sea again. The ship was to set sail the very next morning, and Adrien insisted that Celie allow him to stay with her as he did not know when he would be back. The earlier details she could never recall, but nonetheless, he had convinced her to allow him entry to her room. The rest was history with her bulging midsection as a recurring reminder.

She wished she could forget the day she had told him she was expecting…it was the first time he had ever raised his voice to her…

**ooo**

_Celie paced the wooden dock, both nervous and excited all at once. Perhaps she should have written about it in one of her letters, but no, the thought of a joyous surprise was a much more thrilling idea. He would surely be as happy as she was, maybe even bring her to the local Church the minute he walked off the ship and marry her on the spot! Then they all could be together forever, the beginning of a loving family._

_After what seemed an eternity, she saw him making his way down the gangplank and raced to meet him. Adrien in turn laughed in delight, nearly falling over as Celie jumped into his arms, kissing him wholeheartedly and passionately._

“ _For that hello, maybe I should leave more often,” he whispered, nuzzling into her neck to steal his own kisses there._

_Celie melted into his embrace. “I hope you reconsider and stay as long as you can; after all, I do have the most incredible news for you,” she replied, pulling back to gaze at him with adoration._

“ _And what would that be?” he asked, laughing as she led him aside. “_ Ma chérie, _what is it?”_

_Wringing her hands nervously before she grasped onto his, Celie smiled radiantly. “I just found out not too long ago…I…we…well, yes, really just I…_ Dieu _, this is not easy…”_

“ _I have no idea what you are talking about, amour; please, just say it.”_

_Celie took a deep breath before she tried again. “Adrien,” she whispered. “I…I am expecting.”_

“ _Expecting what?”_

_Her grin broadened. “Our baby,” she said. “We are going to have a baby.”_

_Adrien’s face paled at her explanation, the color thoroughly vanished as he tried to understand what he had just been told._

“ _No,” he said, his voice shaking nervously. “We are not.”_

“ _What do you mean?” Celie laughed. “Of course we are; I am already two months along today…”_

“ _I said no!” he answered, sharply, viciously._

_Now it was Celie’s turn to be nervous; of all reactions imaginable, she never would have planned on this one._

“ _Adrien, what are you talking about?” she asked. “There is no… ‘no’ in this; I am going to have a baby.”_

“ _The hell you are!” he shouted, wrenching away from her to pace, cursing madly under his breath._

_Celie could not believe what she was hearing. “What is the matter with you? Everything will be all right; we can get married right away…”_

“ _Will you stop talking crazy, woman?” he hissed, gripping her shoulders painfully. “Don’t you understand? I said there is not going to be a baby; the last thing I am going to do is get married over a bastard that I had no part of.”_

_Celie shoved him away, anger blazing in her eyes as they threatened to flood with tears. “The last thing I understood was that it takes two to make a child, so it is just as much yours as it is mine.”_

“ _How the hell do I know that? Who knows how many men you’ve been with while I’ve been away?” Adrien retorted. “There is no way to prove the baby is mine, and I refuse to believe it._ _You have two choices, Celie, and they are very simple. Either get rid of the baby, I do not care how, or else, you will never hear from me again. Just remember, we both know how the world treats an unwed woman with a baby.”_

_Celie could not contain her teetering emotions any longer. Without another word, she pushed her way passed him, wanting to get home as soon as possible. Adrien, on the other hand, headed straight for the closest tavern he could find._

**ooo**

Celie wiped her eyes as she put the memory to rest once again, praying Adrien was here with her now. He had come back that night to apologize, bringing flowers and a few trinkets, and then left for the first of numerous long trips.

Then again, maybe it was best that he was not here. Every time he returned, it was the same. The tiniest thing she did would upset him somehow, and vice versa. Chaos would break loose, they would go their separate ways, and then later at night, he would return with candy and flowers, full of apologies. Like the fool in love she was, Celie would always take him back. No matter how angry he made her or how much he hurt her, she loved him far too much to let him go.

Besides, with Adrien away so often, the baby would spend most of its time with someone who truly loved it. That is, when it finally decided to arrive…

Which could be in the next few hours, Celie realized as she gasped, feeling a sudden rush of pain. Groaning in discomfort, she called to the woman beside her. Madame Maigny, apparently not in as deep a sleep as she seemed, woke up immediately, rushing to Celie’s side, already examining the girl to be sure she was in labor.

“All right, all right,” Maigny murmured gently. “Celie, relax, you need to be strong; there will certainly be a baby in this room tonight.”

**ooo**

By the dawn’s first light, the peaceful sounds of morning were disturbed by a loud, inconsiderate pounding on the front door. Maigny sleepily made her way downstairs, her temper rising as she found Adrien on the other side. From the God-awful stench of liquor and perfume, she did not even want to begin thinking where he had been, nor did she need too many chances to guess.

“What do you want?” she asked, not hiding her annoyance.

Adrien stumbled a bit, obviously having drunk the night away and on the verge of the torturous hangover that came with the territory he had ventured upon.

“Wh-where’s Celie?” he asked, squinting painfully and leaning against the wall to regain his balance. “I…I need to see Celie…now.”

“The last thing Celie or the baby needs right now is you,” Maigny growled, not closing the door. “Now get out before I send for someone who can throw you out.”

“The baby?” he asked. “She had the baby today?”

“Last night to be exact.”

Adrien stared at her for a long moment then turned to glance at the stairs when he made the decision to climb them.

“Perhaps I did not make myself clear,” Maigny said, racing to block his path. “I told you, right now, neither Celie nor her child need you around to upset them, or worse. You are not welcome.”

Completely ignoring her, Adrien roughly shoved passed her with little effort, making his way to Celie’s room. Inside, he saw Celie fast asleep in bed, understandably more exhausted than she was when she came home. Therefore, he did try to be as quiet as he could.

Beside the bed, however, Adrien found the makeshift bassinet they had put together for the baby, with the infant inside. Curiously, he made his way over, staring down at the newborn with an unreadable expression.

“If you must know,” Maigny whispered softly, “It is a little girl. You have a daughter.”

Adrien did not offer any response except continuing to look at the baby. Celie’s baby…and his, no matter how much he wanted to deny it. Over the past few months, he had tried to come to terms with the thought of being a father, but his efforts failed him. He could not see any good coming from it, and he slowly retreated from the bassinet.

Celie would write him as often as she could, asking for money, _his_ money that _he_ earned. Then when she had that, his job would be the next thing to go when she pleaded for him to stay home to be a part of the child’s life. Because of that, he would not have any money left when she asked him for it again.

Then again, the more he thought about it, to hell with Celie; what about _him_? Without money, there was surely no way to escape, getting as far away from this punishment as he could! No comfort in the best form he knew, his beloved liquor and other women who would not do such a selfish thing like bearing him a child!

He knew he should just wash his hands of the both of them, but Celie's beauty was too addictive. As much as she often irritated him, making him scream at her and storm off, he always found himself missing the pleasures of her body, and came back to her to smooth things over. Which was easy enough to do: no matter how bad the fight they'd had, a few apologies and gifts always won her over and made her take him back.

He didn't want a little brat in his life, and certainly didn't want to take any responsibility for her - but he didn't want to give up Celie either. He'd have to make a show of caring about the kid to stay on Celie's good side. Luckily his job took him away so much - he wouldn't have to see much of her. When he was in town, he could just give the kid a toy or some candy, get that out of the way, and then tell Celie how much he'd missed her and needed to be alone with her. He could still have what he wanted - Celie - while dealing with the brat as little as possible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> Dieu - God  
> enchanté - Enchanted/Delighted  
> Ma chérie - My darling
> 
> Writer's Notes and Memories:  
> ~ Adrien (sleazeball) would go on to make two more appearances in a later stories, one currently unfinished to this day. Why? Because I am a terrible human being. But never as bad as him!


	3. The New Life

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Babette © Disney  
> All Original Characters © myself

Sitting on the front steps, staring out into space. That was all Babette could do to ease the pain; she just wanted to be alone, close to home but not inside where it still felt as though Maman was alive. She did not believe it yet - everything had happened so fast, as though it were a dream instead of harsh reality.

Perhaps that was the difficult part: Babette knew she would not be waking up from this nightmare. Her mother had been not only that – a mother – but also her closest friend and companion, her caretaker and teacher. Even in the rough times, things would always turn out all right simply because Celie was at Babette’s side. Nothing could ever take her away, except that sudden case of pneumonia in the past month.

Well, that…and _him_ , Babette thought, grimacing angrily. When she was little, Adrien’s visits were a good thing. What little girl would not be happy to receive a treat or trinket every time her papa returned after a long trip? What little girl would know better, unaware of why he really came back?

But as Babette matured into a young woman with each passing day, she learned more and more about life, about men and women, enough to understand exactly why Adrien insisted that he be alone with her mother. Babette never forgot the first time she had put together the mental puzzle. As Adrien had left that day, leaving her with a careless pat on the head, she heard Celie crying at the top of the stairs where Babette found her on the ground, clothes disheveled and hair mussed. Ever since then, she never trusted the man Celie claimed was her father.

But now, with her mother dead, Adrien was all Babette had left to call family, unless one counted Madame Maigny, who had visited daily for as long as Babette could remember. Everyone else within the small neighborhood was kind to Celie’s face, but now and then, Babette would overhear a few whispers of gossip behind turned backs. Madame Maigny, however, out of the goodness of her heart, was different. She never whispered, never judged; she was undoubtedly kind, and best of all, shared the girl’s immense distaste for Adrien.

Unfortunately, that was not enough to keep Babette in Maigny’s care. Adrien still held the blood title of Father, and Celie had foolishly insisted that Babette be put in his care. Even on her deathbed, Celie still believed that deep down, Adrien truly cared about their daughter.

All of that had led to this day with Babette sitting outside, staring at nothing in particular as she waited for Adrien to come fetch her. Only Maigny’s voice broke Babette’s intense concentration.

“Now you did not forget to pack anything, did you?” the older woman asked, her voice trembling a bit with emotion despite trying to hide it.

Babette merely shook her head.

“You are sure? Absolutely sure?” Maigny persisted. “The way your father travels, I will not know where to send anything you forget.”

Babette sighed, but smiled in spite of herself. “I have everything I need.”

“Except Lisette, you mean,” Maigny replied, handing her a makeshift doll that had seen better days. Celie had pieced it together from an old duster one Christmas when Babette was little and money was scarce.

Babette’s smile grew a bit, after failing at attempted seriousness. “I am twelve now; I can not be seen with a doll,” she said, though she gazed at the doll with childlike affection.

Maigny smirked, then grinned warmly. “I never said you have to play with her, but both of us know that she only belongs at your side. She will help you remember all the good times here.”

Babette nodded, biting her lip to calm her oncoming tears as she tucked Lisette into her small bag. Maigny hugged her tightly around the shoulders in comfort.

“Now, now, you cry as much as you want, petite,” she murmured softly while Babette willingly obeyed, hiding her face in Maigny’s shoulder. “There, that a girl.”

Putting the child out at arms’ length after a few moments, Maigny added, “You know that you must come see me when Papa brings you back here, promise?”

Babette wiped her eyes. “I promise.”

“And wherever you go, whatever you do, you do it well and make Maman and I proud, _oui_?”

“ _Oui_.”

Maigny gave her a tearful smile. “Bon, now give me a hug before I cry us a river.”

Babette once again did as she was told, the pair staying close until they heard horses’ hooves pounding the street as a rider approached. Startled, they looked up to see Adrien pull his horse to a halt, looking at them expectantly as he jumped off the animal’s back.

“Well?” he asked, not one sign of sympathy, concern, or caring in his voice. “Come on, I do not have all day!”

Maigny glared at him as she walked Babette to Adrien’s side. “If you tried learning patience, perhaps the scowl will leave that thing you call a face and make you look somewhat decent.”

Adrien blatantly ignored her, inspecting Babette. “Turn around,” he ordered abruptly, and she did. With a frustrated sigh, Adrien looked at Maigny. “I told you to make her presentable; why are those sleeves and skirt so long?”

Maigny stared at him blankly. “There is a chill in the air; I will not have her catching a cold.”

Adrien shook his head. The stupid woman, she never could do anything he told her to do correctly. “Wonderful,” he muttered, taking Babette roughly by the hand as he dragged her into the house. “We are late as it is.”

With Maigny following, Adrien shoved Babette up the stairs to Celie’s room, locking the door so the old bat could not get in. Pulling open small dresser drawers, he searched through them adamantly, nodding victoriously as he found what he was looking for.

“Try these on,” he demanded, tossing a sleeveless bodice and short skirt to the girl, snarling as she hesitated. “Do as I said, hurry now!”

Babette glared at him. “Turn around, please.”

Adrien heaved a mighty sigh of irritation, but turned around nonetheless if it meant she would get a move on. Babette on the other hand changed quickly.

When everything was in place, she asked, her voice shaking, “Is this better?”

Adrien faced her again, standing there in stunned silence. He had told D’Araignée that the child was following in her mother’s footsteps to keep her interested, but he had not realized how correct he was. Admittedly, it took him a few seconds to remember that this was his daughter, not Celie back from the dead.

Babette only stared at the mirror, barely hearing him tell her to take her hair down. When she did, she hastily pulled the flowing locks over her bared shoulders. He expected her to go out like this? She was hardly dressed!

Adrien stepped forward, pulling her hair back and gazing at what he had turned her into. His hands slipped to her shoulders, rubbing them tenderly. If only…if only she was not Celie’s daughter, his daughter, what he could have done with her!

Babette, uncomfortable with his glances and his touch, fought him away before she grabbed her cloak and bag, racing to the door with Adrien close behind. When she reached the hallway, Maigny immediately took her into her arms as the girl ran to her.

Glaring at Adrien, Maigny shouted, “What have you done to her? Where are you taking her?”

Adrien merely pried an emotional Babette from her grasp, dragging her outside kicking and screaming. “That is really none of your business, is it?” he answered brusquely. Not wasting any time, he lifted his daughter onto the horse and climbed on behind her.

“You are out of your mind!” Maigny cried, chasing after them. By the time she had caught up, the poor woman broke down pleading. “Adrien, please, let the child stay here! You know she will be cared for!”

Adrien only shoved her away with a kick. “I am her father; she belongs to me! Now leave us alone, hag!” he shouted before kicking the horse into a run, leaving Maigny on the ground in tears and riding off as fast as the horse could run.

**ooo**

Which road they took, Babette would never remember. After the encounter with Adrien in Celie’s room, she was warily focused only on what he was doing, afraid to close her eyes even though sleep was beckoning. By the time the horse stopped, she was exhausted, but it was better to be safe and tired than asleep and hurt. Sleep could wait.

As they dismounted the animal, Adrien led her roughly towards their destination, and all feelings of attempted bravery disappeared into thin air. It was cozy little shack of a building on the outside, but inside, it was as though someone was throwing a party that had no intention of ending until next year. Music, cheers, a crash now and then. Babette was ready to make a run for the door again just from having walked through the long, looming front hallway.

When Adrien opened the door to go inside, Babette took one sweeping glance over the room, immediately averting her eyes to the floor before daring to look around. She saw men at tables watching women the same way Adrien had looked at her before, and the women not caring whatsoever apparently. They seemed to encourage it even, giggling, teasing, and moving in ways that seemed inhumanly possible! What muscles existed that allowed them to move like that?

After a moment’s time, Adrien must have found who he was looking for, and they started walking again. Babette blamed her imagination, but she was certain that all eyes had fallen on them, filling her with dread. The women, she could not tell if her being there was a good or bad thing to them. Some seemed curious; others appeared to find her presence funny. A select few even eyed her with frowns and grimaces. The men, on the other hand, merely looked at her the same way Adrien had before, and Babette quickly folded her arms across her chest when she realized exactly where they were looking.

“You are late, Adrien!” a voice called. “Madame’s been waiting for you two in the back room forever!”

Adrien smiled suggestively as they approached the female messenger, a young, tall redheaded beauty. “Only fashionably late. Besides, she can wait a little longer, especially if you are…available.”

The girl smirked with an air of sarcasm as she replied, “Go to hell.” That being said, she winked at Babette with a smile and walked off. Babette barely had time to return it before Adrien dragged her towards the back room.

The girl, one of the self-titled “Fleurettes”, shook her head as she joined another, a strong-looking blonde.

“What is he doing back here?” the blond growled. “I thought Madame kicked him out last time.”

“Easy, you know how she is with tabs; he owes her too much,” the redhead replied before she pointed at Babette as father and daughter entered the back room. “That right there is his payment, from what I heard.”

The blonde raised an eyebrow. “You mean he is going to…?” The redhead nodded before the blonde continued. “Knowing Adrien, I guess I should have expected something so low. His daughter I’m guessing?”

“I think so,” the redhead said. “Just another idiot who can not take on responsibility; what else is new?”

The blonde shook her head, and then smiled. “Ah well, if he wants to deny her existence, maybe we will be lucky and he will never come back!”

The redhead laughed. “Here’s hoping!”

ooo

If not for a dimly lit kerosene lamp, the back room would have been pitch black. Babette swallowed nervously as Adrien sat in front of a desk in the center of the room; behind the desk sat an aging woman, completely skin and bones with graying hair. Slowly, cautiously, Babette moved forward to sit down, but Adrien gripped her arm, holding her up.

“Stand up straight,” he ordered, and she obeyed. Looking at the old woman, he asked, “Let’s get to the point, D’Araignée; what do you think? Will she do?”

“Do?” Babette asked, looking at him confused.

D’Araignée rose from her seat to walk around the desk, scratching her head as she inspected the girl.

“Hmm, let’s see.” She reached out a wrinkled hand, gripping Babette by the chin to raise her face. “Not beautiful, but not ugly; of course, she is still young. That will hopefully change soon.” She then combed her fingers through the child’s hair. “Soft, men like soft hair; this will do.” Abruptly, D’Araignée moved around to Babette’s back, patting her backside roughly before she returned to face her. “And firm in the right place; the men like that too.”

Giving her a final once-over, D’Araignée looked thoughtful. “The rest should completely fill out in another year. She is not performance material just yet, but there is hope for her.” She looked at Adrien. “I’ll take her…plus ten francs.”

Adrien jumped from his chair. “What? We agreed that you would just take her in and call it even!”

“Take me in?” Babette cried. The adults ignored her.

D’Araignée held out her familiar bony hand, a con artist’s smirk about her lips. “Caregiver fees, Adrien; the money, please, or no deal.”

Adrien mumbled a curse under his breath before reaching into his pockets. “If only I was not desperate, you old witch,” he growled before turning over everything he could find, and still coming up shorthanded. “This is all I have; I can get the rest when the ship docks here again.”

D’Araignée grinned maliciously as she counted the money in her hands. “A pleasure doing business with you, monsieur; say your goodbyes and get out.”

Babette looked at Adrien disbelievingly; this was not a game! He was actually going to leave her here! As much as she hated him, she had come to terms with the thought of being forced to live with him, and now this! It was too much!

Racing after him as he stormed through the dance hall, Babette gripped his arm when she caught up to him outside.

“Papa, please!” she cried breathlessly, tears openly flowing. “Papa, I will do whatever you want me to, but do not leave me here! Please, _please_ , take me with you! Tell me what I have to do, and I will do it, but let me come with you!”

Adrien gritted his teeth before he turned to look down at her heartlessly; the brat was just like her mother, a whiny little pest.

Wrenching his arm away, he snarled, “You live here now; stay put.”

Babette shook her head, starting to follow him when D’Araignée held her back firmly. Fighting against her, Babette shouted, “Papa! Please!”

“Papa?” Adrien screamed, taking one last look at her. “You worthless little whelp, you do not have a father! You never did!”

Babette stopped fighting at his words, truly stunned and her sobs only coming harder. She felt numb, cold; how she went from outside to a small room, she could not tell if anyone asked.

“Welcome to your new home, _ma chérie_ ,” D’Araignée said venomously behind her. “This is your family now.”

Babette looked up at her callously. “My entire family is dead, and nothing is taking their place.”

D’Araignée laughed haughtily. “A quick tongue, we will have to do something about that and soon. The men will not take kindly to it.”

“Leave me alone,” Babette answered frostily.

D’Araignée’s face hardened, all mockery and sarcasm absent from her tone. How dare the girl attempt to talk back to her! “Now you listen to me, wretch; I will make myself perfectly clear,” she threatened. “I am not happy about this arrangement either; all you are to me is another mouth to feed and another toy for my customers. I repeat, we are your family now. I am your ‘mother’, and the last thing you want to do around this place is disobey your mother. Learn that, and learn it well.” She walked to the door. “If you want to eat before you start working, be downstairs no later than ten. Late risers fend for themselves.”

After D’Araignée was gone, Babette clumsily rummaged through her bag, searching for Lisette. Gripping the small doll close, she curled up under the thin blanket, feeling utterly alone as she cried herself to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> Maman - Equivalent of "Mom" or "Mommy"
> 
> Writer's Notes and Memories:  
> ~ Lisette the doll is most definitely a nod to Babette's later situation during the spell.  
> ~ Did I mention Adrien is a sleazeball? Arguably one of my least favorite creations.


	4. Les Fleurettes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Babette © Disney  
> All Original Characters © myself

For the next week, the most intolerable week of her short life, Babette simply did what she was told to do, which was mostly the cleaning and dirty work. _Maybe because no one else wants to do it_ , she thought bitterly, watching the other girls laugh, talk, and practice for the evening festivities.

The first day was the worst. All day listening to D’Araignée giving orders to be done daily and scolding every tiny mistake Babette made.

“You are to make sure these floors are mopped, swept, and spotless,” the old witch had said. “At night, when the customers are here, stay in the kitchen, ready to wash everything that is brought back there, then head straight up to bed when you are dismissed for the night. Whatever you do, don’t you dare let me catch you walking about outside; the last thing I need is some little urchin scaring off the men! That should not be too difficult for your small mind to comprehend.”

On certain nights, however, when D’Araignée was “feeling generous,” as she put it, Babette was allowed to stay downstairs, out of sight in the wings, to watch the girls in action.

It was the same small speech every time. “Just because you are far from what I want wandering about out there,” D’Araignée would tell her, “that is no reason why you can not learn what you are here for. Just stay put right there, watch, and learn, understand?”

And of course, Babette would nod and obey, blushing the entire time at the very thought of having to “entertain” one day.

But as time went on, and she grew accustomed to what she saw, sitting there was not torturous, but boring. After a while, she had most of the girls’ movements and tricks memorized, and watching seemed pointless. But she did not hint at this, not at all; the day D’Araignée saw that she knew how to do anything would be one closer to being forced out there herself. Therefore, Babette remained silent, every now and then subtly mimicking what she saw when no one was watching her.

Or, when she thought no one was watching her, that is.

“What is Madame putting you through now? Training?” a voice asked from behind, startling her. When Babette turned around, she saw the redheaded girl, the same one that she had seen the night she arrived, smirking at her.

Babette immediately stopped what she was doing and went back to watching, not saying a word.

The redhead raised an eyebrow indignantly. “The cold shoulder? What did I do to deserve that?”

Babette shrugged, and the redhead shook her head with an amused smile.

“Well, if you have to watch, I might as well teach you a few things worth remembering.”

Babette glared at her, clearly not wanting to be spoken to, then returned to watching the stage. The girl simply walked to her place to begin. That was their first encounter.

The second was later that night after Babette had been sent back to her room. Her cold room, she realized as she stepped inside. It was December already, after all. Winter. A time of death in so many ways.

Shivering, Babette crawled under the thin blankets with Lisette close by, trying to keep warm when there was a knock on her door. With a frustrated groan, not caring who it was, she shouted, “I am sleeping, go away!”

“If you were sleeping, you would not answer, would you?”

Babette bolted upward in bed, frowning as she found the redhead standing in the open doorway.

“I am done for the night,” she growled at her unwanted visitor. “Leave me alone.”

“Well, well, she actually talks!” the redhead laughed, walking towards the bed before she sat down, much to Babette’s obvious displeasure. Handing over a blanket, she added, “Here, thought you may need an extra one. Downstairs can be hotter than hell, but for some reason, that is not always true for the upstairs, especially in winter.” When Babette eyed the blanket warily, the redhead laughed again. “Go on, take it, this is my spare. It’s not like I took it from Fifi’s room; _then_ you would have to worry!”

Babette took it slowly. “Fifi?” she asked softly, shyly.

The redhead smiled kindly, almost like Maman used to, Babette noticed. “You have not been introduced to anyone yet, eh?”

Babette shook her head.

“I did not think so,” the redhead said. “Ah well, it is too late now, and Madame will have our heads if I bring you downstairs. But tomorrow, she is out for the day, goes to do errands every Saturday, all day. After you finish your chores, I will see to it personally that you meet the others. Having a few friends around here will do you good. Is that all right with you?”

Babette looked thoughtful for a minute. The girl was right; maybe having a few friends in this place would help make life bearable at least. Slowly breaking into a smile, she nodded. “ _Oui, merci_.”

The redhead grinned. “All right then.” Before she left, she asked, “By the way, what’s your name, sweets?”

“Babette.”

The redhead nodded with a smirk. “I guess it will do.” Then, before heading for the door, she added seriously, “I’m Odette, just in case you were interested. Now get some rest; I will see you in the morning.”

Babette nodded, grinning from ear to ear, more comfortable than before with a possible friend in sight.

**ooo**

Although Babette excitedly raced to put away her mop and broom, she found herself shy and nervous once again as she opened the door to the main room a crack. She hesitated for a moment, wondering if she was crazy as she listened to the girls’ resounding laugher. Should she really be here? She was only the new girl, and a cleaning one at that; they would not accept her as one of them, would they?

Despite her nerves, however, Babette took a deep breath as she pushed the door open entirely and walked into the room.

“Ah there you are, finally!” Odette laughed behind her, leading her by the shoulders to a corner of the room. “Sure took you long enough.”

Babette glanced up at her. “Did you have to do chores when you first came here?” she asked.

“Of course,” Odette answered. “We all did.”

“Then you should remember how long it takes,” Babette countered, with a tiny smile.

Odette raised an eyebrow as she smirked. “Madame was right, a quick tongue indeed!”

Babette winced, clearly remembering that a quick tongue was not something that was appreciated around this place. Odette merely grinned.

“Keep it,” she said reassuringly, sitting down at a small table. “Just do not use it too much, especially in front of Madame.”

Babette sat across from her with a sigh. “Is there anything we _can_ do around here?”

“Absolutely,” Odette replied, crossing her feet on the chair next to hers comfortably. “Keep the men and Madame happy. Then on Saturdays, namely today, make our own enjoyment before she gets back.”

“What fun,” Babette sulked, folding her arms.

“Better than living with Adrien, oui?”

Babette gazed into space, pure hatred in her eyes. “Anything is better than that.”

Odette laughed gently. “If it helps, none of us like him either; not exactly every girl’s dream.”

“You do not have to tell me that twice.”

“That bad at home?”

Babette looked at her. “At home?” she asked. “He was never home. He did not even live with us, and when he visited, he made my mother’s life miserable. He only wanted her for one thing, you know.”

Odette looked at her curiously at that comment. “How old are you anyway?”

“Twelve.”

Odette smiled at the child warmly. The poor kid, losing the innocence of youth and forced into this life at such a young age.

“Ah well, do not give him a second thought,” she said reassuringly. “If he shows up here again, and bothers you in any way, you let us know. We will take care of him.”

“Damn straight you mean ‘we,’ but I want the first punch!”

Odette and Babette looked up, and Odette laughed as another woman approached them.

“Well the plan was to let you tear him limb from limb, of course!” she agreed, gesturing an invitation to sit with them. When the blonde sat down, Odette continued, “Aubrey, this is Babette, our latest addition.”

Aubrey gave Babette the once-over, frankly frightening the child a bit. The woman was quite intimidating; tall in stature, even when wearing flat shoes, and on the strong, built side physically. But after a moment, Aubrey smiled, relieving her fear a bit as she held out her hand to Babette.

“I wish I could say ‘welcome aboard’ like it is a good thing,” she said. “But this place does take a lot of time to get used to.”

“I saw that when I stepped in here last week,” Babette agreed.

Aubrey nodded. “That’s right, you are Adrien’s little girl, oui?” When Babette nodded solemnly, Aubrey shook her head. “You have my sympathies, sweetie; in fact, I think you have the sympathy of every girl in this place because of that.”

Sensing the ill feelings approaching, Odette interrupted quickly, “And Babette, this is Aubrey, the ‘Blonde Ruler’ as men ever so affectionately call her.”

“Easy ‘dette,” Aubrey warned, although she grinned proudly. “Not in front of a kid.”

“Oh, please!” Babette offered, smirking. “I know more than you think!”

Aubrey laughed. “Ah, in that case, I can say I rightfully earned it!”

Odette added, “Any man gives you a hard time, kid, she is the one to see! She will take care of them faster than you can say ‘oh la la.’”

“And that roughhousing attitude is exactly why she can not keep a man’s attention.”

Odette and Aubrey rolled their eyes before putting on the biggest false smiles Babette had ever seen in her life. The new girl approaching only continued to speak.

“If anyone deserves that title, it is me,” she added, snootily, twirling her golden hair. “The whole lot of you know I can keep a man at my side the longest.”

“Oh absolutely, right up until breakfast the next morning every time!” Aubrey agreed, clearly intending to mock their unwanted guest. “Such an achievement, Fifi!”

“Josephine!” the girl snapped angrily. “I have told you a hundred times not to call me that!”

Odette looked at her, as if curious. “A hundred? Really? How many fingers and toes did you need to count to that?”

Fifi narrowed her eyes at her. “Once a _former_ rich girl, always a _former_ rich girl, Odette?” she asked, tauntingly. “Madame’s little favorite who thinks she is so wonderful just because she can read?”

Aubrey stood up from her seat, threatening death with her eyes. “Watch your mouth, if you know what’s good for you.”

Fifi did not retreat, but only smirked snidely. “And still can’t stand up for herself, I see,” she concluded before turning on Aubrey. “Luckily she has her precious, trained bulldog to protect her.”

“Why you…!”

But as Aubrey made her lunge towards Fifi’s throat, wanting to wring it like a wet dish rag, Odette jumped from her seat to hold her back with a bit of effort.

“That’s enough, both of you!” Odette demanded, a warning tone in her voice. “The last thing we need is you two ready to kill each other, especially in front of the kid, got it?”

While Aubrey backed down unwillingly, Fifi sneered at her before turning her attention on Babette. “This?” she asked. “This is the newest pickings?” She circled Babette’s seat as if inspecting her, and Babette averted her eyes at the uncomfortable feeling that had not filled her since D’Araignée had done the same evaluation a week ago. “Little scrawny if you ask me.”

“ _Quelle surprise_ , no one did,” Aubrey growled sarcastically.

Fifi flashed her a deadly look before looking at Babette again. “Madame should have taught her from the beginning to stay away from the wrong sort and learn from the ones can help her survive around here.” She grinned, proudly. “Like me.” At last addressing Babette directly, Fifi put her hand on the girl’s shoulder, as if she was genuinely concerned about her and said, “Remember, if you ever need someone to turn to, ma petite…”

“She will most assuredly not come to you, Fifi,” Aubrey finished.

“Josephine!”

“Like I care. Now do us all the biggest favor, and get lost.”

Tired of being ridiculed from those below her, Fifi turned on her heel to oblige the request, muttering heatedly about how “Madame will hear about this!” on the way back to her little circle of followers. Odette and Aubrey simply turned up their noses in a silly imitation of their colleague, while Babette snorted a laugh under her breath.

“That bad, huh?” she asked.

Aubrey shook her head. “That was Fifi in a good mood; you do not want to see her otherwise, trust me.”

Odette nodded. “To become a part of Fifi’s merry little band is the same as sending your soul to hell,” she warned. “She will be there for you until she figures out what she can use you for. Kindness to her is only bait to reel in the idiots who do her bidding. It is best to just stay away from her altogether.”

“Will do, I promise.”

With the tension eased, the trio became better acquainted as Odette had intended. For the remainder of the afternoon, Babette eagerly listened and learned, meeting and greeting everyone until D’Araignée returned, as always in the worst of moods after a full day of errands. Unfortunately as expected upon seeing the child in the main room, D’Araignée ordered her back to her bedroom, reminding her of her place and scolding her disobedience. But as Babette solemnly made her way upstairs, regretting having to leave the fun and lively atmosphere the girls had created, she found that Odette and Aubrey had followed her.

“Feel a little better about this place?” Odette asked.

Babette smiled gently. “I am not sure if I will ever get used to it, but I do feel much more welcome than I did before, _merci_.”

Aubrey grinned warmly. “Well, you can come to us for anything you need, we promise.”

Odette nodded in agreement. “ _Absolument_. Right now, however, I suggest getting some rest. Saturday can get pretty insane around here; you are going to be washing a lot of mugs and plates tonight!”

“Oh, joy!” Babette laughed, rolling her eyes. Her smile growing, she said seriously, “Thank you again… _mes amies_.”

The girls made a playfully sweeping bow before reflecting her expression and heading downstairs, and Babette once again found herself alone. But for the first time since she had arrived last week, she could honestly admit that she felt at home, and truly looked forward to being downstairs with them again. Curling up under the blanket, she beamed as she slipped into a soothing, peaceful nap.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> Quelle surprise - What a surprise  
> Absolument - Absolutely
> 
> Writer's Notes and Memories:  
> ~ My girls! At last! Odette, Aubrey, and Fifi, the first three "Fleurettes" to join the canon of this verse. They are my precious gems. Coming up with their stories and personalities was a treat. You'll see more as the story goes on so I won't ruin anything now.  
> ~ Fifi, yes, is my revenge against the one name they gave Babette that I can NOT stand in the slightest. Thus, I named one of the story's antagonists that. Won't deny it, and not sorry.


	5. One of Them

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Babette © Disney  
> All Original Characters © myself

_Four years later..._

Someday soon, _La Fleur Noire_ would lock its doors at a decent hour, Babette prayed as she washed down a table. Following behind her was Brielle, the newest addition since Babette’s arrival, carrying dirty mugs and plates. Two years Babette's junior, with dark hair and eyes, she bore such a resemblance to the older girl that a passerby could swear that the two were related. At such an early hour of the morning, both girls frowned tiredly as they moved from table to table.

“You’d think they would be down here helping us; as usual, they are too tired,” Brielle muttered bitterly. The tone was fast becoming a familiar one with her, Babette noticed. Although she had already been here a few months, she had not warmed up as quickly as Babette herself had. Brielle was a sensitive, shy girl. The teasing and outspoken ways of the others apparently were a bit much for her.

Babette handed her more mugs, which Brielle expertly balanced. “Go easy on them. At midnight, we are in bed; they are up all night. Dawn is the earliest they can get some sleep.”

“With all the men that follow them at night, I’m sure,” Brielle sarcastically replied. “I swear I start to blush in my sleep from all the noise.”

Babette grinned. “You do not need the noise; you blush at the very thought of what goes on,” she laughed, seeing Brielle beginning to turn a light shade of red. “Unfortunately, you were cursed to be a given the room closest to Fifi’s, and believe me, we all pity you.”

“Oh I appreciate it so much!” Brielle mumbled, the sarcasm lingering in her words, but a smile slowly emerging on her lips. Babette was the one person in this place that she could get along with. “Babette, could you do me a favor?”

“Of course, what is it?” Babette asked, handing her another mug.

Brielle accepted it, taking it by the handle with her last available finger. “Don’t let Madame make you perform at night with the rest of them.”

Babette offered a half smile at the request. “You know Madame as well as I do by now; there is no ‘I can not do that’ when it comes to her orders.”

“Well, how did you manage to avoid it this long?” Brielle asked curiously.

“Sheer luck and a little help from the others,” Babette replied with a laugh.

“Help from the others?” Brielle repeated, surprised. “They actually help you?”

“Brielle, you really have to learn to…understand them,” Babette replied, trying to explain. “They like to poke fun, but that is just how they are. Get to know them a little more, and stop taking things so seriously.”

Brielle shrugged. “Maybe you’re right,” she said quietly before looking at Babette pleadingly. “But until I do, stay on cleaning time just a bit longer, please? You’re the closest thing to a friend that I have here!”

Babette sighed, shaking her head with an amused expression. “All right, I promise I will try, but only if you promise not to judge the others so much.” As Brielle looked a little hesitant at the thought, Babette added confidently, “Tell you what, I guarantee you that I can introduce you to at least two other girls that you can get along with here. How does that sound?”

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” Brielle said slowly.

Babette nodded. “Fair enough. Now, I think you’d better get those mugs and plates to the kitchen before your perfect balancing record is broken.”

Brielle grinned. “Never!” she cried triumphantly, although, even as she spoke, she began to realize that the weight she was carrying was starting to get the best of her. “Then again, I think that may be a good idea; I’ll be right back.”

In the silence after Brielle's departure, Babette's mind began to reflect on her own words. Although she hadn't let on to Brielle, Madame was watching her far too closely, too thoughtfully in the past few days. Everyone knew those looks never brought good news, and Babette was certain that her luck was about to run out any day now.

Her suspicions were confirmed later that morning.

As Babette and Brielle started cleaning the last table, they heard a loud tapping on the window. On the other side was a small group of young men, watching the girls intently, obviously very pleased with themselves for sneaking a daytime peek. Brielle blushed a deeper shade of red than ever before, turning away as if that would make her invisible. This only seemed to gain her more attention as the men called to her, trying to get her to face them again with their muffled shouts and whistles.

Babette protectively stood in front of her, blocking her completely from their view. “Those immature little…” she growled, trailing off as she continued wiping down the table. When they would not leave them alone, Babette glared at the group, walking towards the window and roughly throwing it open. Leaning on the sill, her expression changed to a smirk. “ _Bonjour, messieurs_. You boys look like fine young men, students even, _oui_?”

“Indeed, mademoiselle,” the apparent leader answered, strutting closer to the window, proud as a peacock.

Babette nodded, as if impressed. “Students who can tell time, correct?” They all nodded, a little puzzled by the question. “Very good, then I suggest you leave as we are closed at this time of day!”

The leader ignored the threat. “We did not think a place like this was ever closed, especially considering that we are simply waiting for one of our own. He did not come back to the university last night.”

“I am sure that he will be back soon,” Babette angrily replied. “For now, we are closed, so get back to your books and leave us alone!”

The leader grimaced at her dangerously, seething as he spoke. “A mere _showgirl_ has the nerve to tell _us_ to leave? Who do you think you are?”

“Obviously someone smarter than a bunch of spoon fed brats!”

The young man raised his hand, rather instinctively Babette noticed as she quickly backed away…with a bit of help. Before she knew what had happened, she heard D’Araignée speaking.

“Monsieur, please wait right there!” she begged, dragging Babette forcefully by the arm towards the door.

“You pathetic little wretch!” D’Araignée hissed. “Will you ever learn to control that tongue of yours?”

When they reached the group outside, D’Araignée smiled, phony as always, as she addressed the insulted leader.

“ _Mon cher monsieur_ , I ever so humbly apologize!” she said, desperately. “This foolish girl did not know what she was saying, but it was only nerves, I assure you! She is dancing tonight for the first time, and it must be getting the best of her!”

“What?” Babette cried, silencing herself as D’Araignée tugged her arm painfully.

“Surely you could show her forgiveness as well as join us here for her debut,” the elder woman continued. “I am certain you and your friends will not be disappointed!”

The leader’s expression changed from angry to intrigued in a matter of seconds. “Is…that so?” he asked, trying to maintain a sense of authority as he gazed at her thoughtfully. Babette thought bitterly that she knew what part of his anatomy he was thinking with...and it wasn't his brain.

“Yes, of course!”

The leader continued leering at Babette. “I suppose we can return tonight to see if that is true.”

“By all means, please do,” D’Araignée said with an inviting smile. “We would be honored!”

“Very well,” the leader replied after a moment’s pause. “But before we go…I demand a personal apology from the strumpet herself. Although I am grateful for the invitation, she should still learn to think before she speaks, _if_ she even knows _how_ to think that is.”

“Of course, that is not too much to ask for,” D’Araignée said reassuringly. Shoving Babette forward, D’Araignée glared at her, demanding, “Apologize to the kind gentleman for his understanding!”

Babette gritted her teeth in defeat, remembering her earlier words of wisdom to Brielle: there was no ‘I can not do that’ when it came to Madame’s orders. Swallowing a disgusting taste in her mouth, grimacing as she did so, she said quietly, “I…I am sorry, _monsieur_. I was wrong, and I should have known better.”

“Yes, you should,” the man said, patting her spitefully on the head as if she was a child. “We look forward to tonight; surely you have only the best planned for us.”

“But of course,” she growled.

“Until tonight then.”

When they had walked out of sight, D’Araignée led Babette brutally by the shoulder inside the dancehall before giving her a harsh smack across the face.

“Don’t you ever speak to any potential customer like that again, do you understand me?” D’Araignée shouted.

Babette nodded quickly. It was easier to give in rather than argue; she learned that long ago. “Of course, Madame; I am sorry.”

“Cecile is ill this evening,” D’Araignée snarled. “You _will_ be taking her place, as well as joining the regular girls from now on. It is about time you earned your place here.”

“I agree, absolutely.”

D’Araignée took a deep, heaving breath. “You have until tonight to plan your routine! I suggest you do not waste any more time.”

**ooo**

Odette frantically raced to the back room office that afternoon, books in one hand as she knocked noisily on the door with the other. Word had quickly spread of Babette’s replacing Cecile that night, and as usual, she had been chosen to play the devil’s advocate in fighting against the decision.

“All right, all right, enough!” D’Araignée’s voice called before the door flew open and Odette was met by the old woman’s very displeased frown.

“What can possibly be so important that you insist upon giving me a headache?” D’Araignée grumbled, returning to her desk in irritation.

Odette followed, placing the books back properly on the shelves. “Returning the books, for one thing, Madame, and to discuss Babette’s debut for another.”

D’Araignée ignored the latter concern. “Everything is accounted for? Nothing is missing?” she asked, attempting to sound interested.

“ _Oui_ , Madame, but about Babette…”

“Very well, then there is no need for you to stay here, is there?” D’Araignée interrupted immediately.

Odette sighed, choosing her words carefully. “Madame, she is not ready. If I must, I will cover for Cecile tonight, but do not put Babette out there on such short notice. She has not even done serving duties yet.”

D’Araignée did not look up from a few scattered papers. “She is perfectly ready; I should have put her out there ages ago. Men do enjoy fresh, untainted meat, as you know.”

“But she is not prepared for this!” Odette persisted. “Sending her out there cold, she could panic or freeze, and that is not fair to her!” Knowing which chord to strike with the older woman, she added as an afterthought, “Nor is it fair to the customers who are expecting nothing but the best!”

“That is her own fault,” D’Araignée said, growing more impatient by the second. “Obviously you heard about the stunt she pulled this morning if you are so unrelenting about this. Perhaps if she had not done what she did, I would have been more generous and understanding to give her an extra day to prepare herself.”

Odette shook her head adamantly. “Madame, even this is too much of a punishment. Please, I beg you to reconsider!”

D’Araignée rose from her seat once again, her smile and tone far too sweet to be genuine. “Odette, my precious little Odette, how long have you been here with us?”

Odette instinctively took a step backward, realizing that she had severed the woman’s last thread of patience. “Quite a long time.”

“Do you remember the day you arrived?” D’Araignée asked. “So frightened, yet so brave, running away to spare your family another mouth to feed after your father’s business had failed. I believe those were your exact words. Do you remember who it was that took you in when you felt you had no where else to go?”

“You did, Madame.”

“And who truly believes that, of all my girls, you would be the best ‘heir’ to this business after I am gone? You with your smarts, your reading, all that hoity toity nonsense left from your days of living in the bourgeoisie?”

“You do.”

By the time D’Araignée spoke again, the sweetness had vanished and she stood threateningly eye-to-eye with Odette. “And who, pray tell, has the power to change all of that any time she chooses for your lack of common sense to speak against me?”

Odette lowered her eyes to the ground in defeat. “You do, Madame.”

“Very good, do not forget it.”

Satisfied with seeing the girl put in her place, D’Araignée returned to her desk. “You say Babette is not ready,” she affirmed. “Did any of you fools think to _get_ her ready instead of whining about how she is not?”

Odette shook her head. “I do not know what we were thinking, Madame,” she answered submissively. “You, as always, are right.”

“Of course I am,” the old woman said. “Then I suggest you get out this instant and start teaching. You have a lot to show her before tonight.”

**ooo**

Babette stood in the wings that night, swearing that butterflies were madly fluttering about in her stomach, as she listened to the crowd cheer on Aubrey’s performance out on the floor. Before she realized she had company, however, both Odette and Aubrey joined her, the crowd’s resounding applause for the latter just beginning to die down.

“Well, this is it,” Odette said. “Are you ready?”

“I am going to be sick,” Babette replied slowly, shaking like a leaf. “I can not do this, absolutely can _not_ do this!”

“The hell you can’t!” Aubrey said, hugging her close around the shoulders and obviously the most confident among the three of them. “You were taught by the very best, ‘dette and me, and we worked you to the bone all afternoon! There is nothing you can not do!”

“Yes there is and this is it!”

Odette took Babette’s hand comfortingly. “Listen to me, sweetie; what was the one thing I taught you today? Who is in charge out there?”

“I am.”

“That’s right, as long as you are out there, you call the shots, oui?”

“ _Oui_.”

“There is nothing to be afraid of then,” Odette said firmly. “All of those men are here to see you, to be rewarded by _you_. If they do anything you do not like, take away the reward quickly; cover yourself a bit for example, and watch what happens! They will never do what they did to upset you again!”

Babette stared at her, utterly confused. “Are you talking about men or dogs?”

“Since when is there a difference?” Aubrey scoffed with a laugh. “The point, petite, is that you own that floor, not them! If they get too crazy, make them suffer.”

As much as they were trying to help, Babette was not convinced, and the poor girl began shaking even more as she heard D’Araignée begin to introduce her.

“No!” she said hysterically, attempting a retreat, but the girls only held her in place. “I really can not go out there, I can’t!”

As Aubrey helped Babette remain standing, Odette frantically began searching for something, letting out a quiet “Ah ha!” when she found what she was looking for: a tiny mirror that the girls kept in the wings to touch up their appearances before and after a performance.

“Here, look here!” she said, holding it in front of her friend. Somehow, it seemed to help as Babette very gradually began to relax a bit.

“Look at you,” Odette continued soothingly. “I mean _really_ look! You are going to have them eating out of your hands!”

Babette did as she was told, almost amazed at what she saw. She knew she was certainly not hideous, but she had never considered herself stunning or gorgeous, hence why she nearly did not recognize the girl staring back at her in the reflection.

“ _Mon Dieu_ , I…I am actually pretty,” she whispered, giggling slightly as she realized how petty she must have sounded.

Odette and Aubrey only smiled gently as they nodded in agreement.

“You better believe it,” Aubrey replied. “You are beautiful; they are going to love you.”

“You really think so? Honest?” Babette asked, looking more like a child at that moment than she ever did when she had arrived at _La Fleur Noire_.

“If they do not, they should consider having their brains checked!”

But before Babette could answer again, D’Araignée had finished her introduction and made her way to the wings, ever the impatient old witch.

“What in hell are you waiting for?” she growled. “Get your ass out there; they are waiting!”

Babette glanced one last time at the girls for support, to which they nodded reassuringly, before walking out to the floor, now more nervous than ever.

It felt as though time had come to a standstill. Babette knew there was music being played somewhere in the room, and that there were many men lecherously watching her every move and calling out to her. But all she could hear was silence as she looked beyond the footlights. Swallowing fearfully, she stood frozen in place; for how long, she did not know.

Glancing to her right, she saw D’Araignée and the girls watching, angry and worried respectively. Babette knew she had to do something. Looking down at her ensemble, she found and began to unbutton the coat that Odette had lent her, trying to appear casual and confident as she placed it aside, revealing to her onlookers a sleeveless bodice underneath. They were far from disappointed, she realized, as she at last heard their ecstatic cheers resulting from the action.

To the common women of the time, the shouts and whistles would have been deemed disgraceful and insulting. But Babette was not a common woman. She was a Fleurette, she thought with determination suddenly taking hold of her. Fleurettes fed off of such responses; they reveled in them! And now, Babette understood why as she forced her fears aside.

Gracefully, sexily, she floated across the floor, mimicking every move she had seen since she was a child. At one point, she noticed that the strap of her bodice had slipped slightly off of her shoulder. Watching her audience intently, she grinned as she let the other strap do the same on purpose. Another moment later, she lifted her skirt a bit, tucking it in place to let them relish the sight of her thigh, a forbidden area that “decent” women would never dream of showing in public. Such bold, yet simple actions, and the men whooped and hollered as though she was giving them paradise!

Throughout the entire dance, Babette’s smile continued to grow as she swayed and glided along her way. Until now, the attentions of a man had made her feel uneasy and threatened, but then again, the only comparison she had was her father’s lewd glances on the night he had brought her to _La Fleur Noire_. This, oh this felt nothing like that! These men were here to admire her, the girl in the mirror! They found her beautiful, desirable, and every minute of her performance felt more incredible than she ever could have imagined possible!

By the time the music drew to a close, Babette could not help feeling a bit sorry that it was over so soon as she took her bow, savoring the wild cheers and applause she received. She took a moment to look once again at D’Araignée, who appeared quite satisfied with the response, and the girls, who were applauding just as loudly and grinning from ear to ear. Babette simply smirked proudly as she took the liberty of taking one final bow. At long last, she felt reassured that this place was where she truly belonged and wanted to stay. Finally, she was one of them; she was home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writer's Notes and Memories:  
> ~ Four years later = Babette is now 16. Just to save time doing math. I don't like math.  
> ~ Brielle is my little precious. I regret...nah, I don't post spoilers.  
> ~ Babette "realizing" that she was pretty was a direct nod to a favorite musical of mine, Gypsy. ("I'm a pretty girl, Mama!")  
> ~ Babette's dance was, at one time, the most difficult scene for me to write. My writing has grown since then. But yes, at one time, I was an awkward little writer who was nervous to capture this moment.  
> ~ I guess this is also a good time to mention that I like to listen to music when I'm writing. Background noise makes it easier to write for me. As a musical theatre geek, one of my favorite songs to listen to when writing this story was "Big Spender" from Sweet Charity. Listen to a French-ish (Spoken dialogue is French; song is in English) version of it here if you never have; it's a GREAT song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=04WY7ASP2cU


	6. God Rest Ye Merry Gentlewomen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Babette © Disney  
> All Original Characters © myself

The morning of Christmas Eve found Babette shivering as she awoke. Stretching, she sat up and pulled the thin blanket around her shoulders as she turned to climb out of bed. But she suddenly stopped when she found Brielle fast asleep on the floor below. Babette shook her head with a grin. She had told Brielle long ago that her door was always open for her, and lately Brielle was constantly taking her up on the offer.

Babette did not mind; the holidays had not been easy for her when she had first come to _La Fleur Noire_. Brielle must have felt the same way, simply wanting a friendly presence to share the time with.

Carefully climbing over the younger girl, Babette walked to the window quietly, gazing out to find that Paris had been covered in snow for Christmas this year. She could not help but smile at the thought. Lots of snow would give D’Araignée more of a reason to let them have the night of Christmas Eve off. She always did, but never willingly. “A wretched excuse to pay you ungrateful brats for a day off!” she would say. With snow heavily blanketing the streets, business would be slow; thus the girls had a stronger argument if D’Araignée tried to take away the privilege.

Of course, that was not the only reason for her happiness. A joyous feeling came upon the world during this season, especially for the girls. Reaching blood family was altogether impossible for them as the group was made up of runaways, orphans, or the abandoned like Babette herself. Thus around Christmas, they celebrated together within the newfound families they had created amongst themselves.

Babette did consider herself one of the luckiest, however. As she climbed into bed against, she gazed intently at her precious Lisette, who sat close by on her bedside table. She remembered Odette’s story about running away when her father’s business had gone bankrupt, feeling that she had to do so to save her family a mouth to feed. More recently, Brielle had confided in Babette that she had been raised in an orphanage since she was born; the first time the girl had left the building without the other residents was the day D’Araignée brought her to _La Fleur Noire_.

At least Babette had her memories of better days when her mother and Madame Maigny made Christmas the best possible time of the year, even during hardships. Touching her finger to her lips, Babette then placed it on those of her doll.

“ _Joyeux Noël_ , Maman.”

“What’s that?” she heard Brielle suddenly ask behind her. “I mean, if you don’t mind my asking.”

Babette smiled and shook her head. “Not at all,” she said, patting the spot next to her on the bed. Brielle willingly accepted the invitation.

“This is Lisette,” Babette explained, taking the doll from her tabletop seat and drawing her close. “I think I was about six when Maman gave her to me. I did not understand at the time, but money was a bit scarce for Christmas that year. Lisette was my favorite gift, and she has been with me ever since.”

Brielle smiled throughout the story. “It must have been nice to have someone to care about you so much. Do you send anything to your maman around the holidays?”

Babette’s grin faded a bit, but she did not let it disappear. “Unfortunately, no; she died before I was brought here.”

Brielle winced. “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…”

Babette shook her head dismissively. “No harm done, silly girl; how would you have known?”

Brielle shrugged, about to respond, when Odette knocked on the door and entered.

“Ladies, you had better get downstairs quickly!” she said excitedly. “The day of freedom begins now and money awaits!”

Babette laughed as she jumped out of bed. “Only took an entire year but it is here at last!”

Odette chuckled a bit before adding seriously, “Babette, you are still coming with Aubrey and me today, _oui_? We’ve been planning this day for months!”

Babette did not hesitate as she nodded. “But of course!”

“But…!”

The girls turned at the small beginning of Brielle’s protest, but the younger girl simply lowered her gaze before looking at them again, trying to look happy.

“Nothing,” she said, a weak excuse for a smile about her lips as she moved to gather her things.

Babette and Odette glanced at one another, smirking as they nodded in silent agreement. When Brielle made her way to the door, she was stopped by Odette inspecting her intently.

“How old are you again, sweets?” she asked firmly.

Brielle swallowed nervously. “F-fourteen.”

Odette looked once more at Babette, who was trying to contain a grin.

“Well, she is older than you were on your first Christmas Eve here,” Odette said thoughtfully. “At least we can still go _out_ instead of staying here with the little one!”

Babette gasped, playfully hurt by the comment. “I am insulted! I was mature for my age; you and Aubrey were the ones who decided to stay here!”

“Uh-huh, blame us for your faults,” Odette laughed before turning to Brielle. “So, do you want to come with us?”

Brielle smiled gently. “You…really mean it? You want me to?”

“Of course!” Babette replied. “It would not be Christmas without you, ma petite.”

“Not a problem at all,” Odette agreed. “Aubrey will say the same, I know it. She may be tough with the men, but she can also be the biggest pushover with her friends.”

“And I am sure that she will be thrilled to hear that!” Babette said with mischievous revenge in her eyes as she and Brielle bolted for the door.

Odette gave chase immediately, warning loudly, “Don’t you dare! Don’t even think about it!”

**ooo**

Paris had never seen such a lively group of friends before that day. With stuffed handbags and joy in their hearts, the four girls felt as though the city was theirs alone as they enjoyed their time off, singing loudly (and sometimes off key). Come the evening hours, they stopped for a small dinner, eagerly chatting like giddy schoolgirls the entire time.

“I do not know about you three,” Odette said, taking a sip of wine. “But I still have one last shop to visit before all of them lock their doors.”

“’dette, we have already spent most of the morning shopping!” Aubrey whined.

“Maybe so, but I still have not found decent gifts for all of you!”

Babette shook her head. “We agreed that spending the day together like this was enough, remember?”

Odette pouted. “Come on, I could not dream of letting Christmas go by without giving my best friends _something_! There is a dress shop nearby here that we haven’t visited yet, and I would be more than honored to treat the three of you to new stunning dresses!”

Aubrey looked at Brielle. “I think we should have warned you before we left; you are in the company of a gift-giving lunatic.”

Brielle laughed before Aubrey returned her attention to Odette. “We will think about it, all right? Right now, the agreement stands,” she said, to which Odette nodded solemnly. “Besides, we still have not done anything the kid wants to do, whatever that may be.”

“True,” Babette agreed as she swallowed a piece of bread. “You have not chosen something to do yet, Brielle.”

Brielle grew shy instantly. “ _Non_ , it’s all right.”

“Come now, we have been dragging you everywhere,” Babette insisted. “Now you must do the same to us.”

“Really, I don’t mind; I am perfectly happy just being here.”

Odette shook her head. “No, the girls are right. There must be something special you do every Christmas; what is it?”

Brielle fidgeted with her napkin. “Honestly?”

“Yes!” they answered in unison.

“Well,” she answered quietly. “The only thing I really enjoyed doing was…going to Church.”

The girls said nothing as she paused.

“It was just…so peaceful and relaxing,” Brielle said, smiling. “The only place I ever found to be so.”

“You’re serious?” Aubrey asked blankly, earning her a kick under the table, courtesy of Babette.

“That does not mean we have to go, of course,” Brielle answered quickly. “But you asked, and I told you.”

“Then that is what we will do!” Babette said, looking to the others pleadingly. “It does sound very relaxing, which is always a good thing…and Odette, it gives us a reason to visit the shop! Surely we will need to look our utmost best!”

Aubrey and Odette looked at each other, silently conversing with their eyes before they grinned halfheartedly.

“Sure, why not?” Aubrey said.

“After all, any reason to do more shopping is also a good thing,” Odette agreed.

Brielle smiled brightly, and despite the nerves building up inside of them, the girls reflected the expression.

“Well!” Odette cried, breaking the silence that followed as she left her share of the payment on the table. “I guess we should hurry then; the shop will not be open much longer.”

The girls all followed suit as they were off yet again.

**ooo**

“I still can not believe we are here,” Aubrey muttered under her breath.

Babette flashed her a subtle warning look. “It is just one night to make her happy; that is not too much to ask for, is it?”

“I know, I know,” Aubrey replied, feeling a twinge of guilt. Tonight had to be the first time she had seen Brielle glad to be alive; watching her race up the steps like a little girl, calling to them excitedly to hurry, Aubrey sighed with a grin. “She’s a good kid, so I guess this is worth it.”

Babette nodded, mirroring her expression. “ _Merci._ ”

The girls slowly made their way inside the massive cathedral of Notre Dame, holding their heads high. As always, if they were going to do anything at all, they would do it in style, and this was as stylish as a Christmas Eve mass could be!

So many pairs of eyes watched them intently, Babette noticed as they took their seats, and assuredly all were watching for different reasons. From a few pews in front of them, a group of old biddies started a gossip fest, pointing at what the girls were wearing with horrified looks on their faces. A little farther down from them, a group of boys did the same thing, but clearly with delight and interest in their eyes.

Babette sighed. She did not expect anything less, of course. Although they were dressed more formally than usual, the dresses clearly had not covered the fact that the girls were what they were. Glancing to her left, she saw Odette and Aubrey obviously feeling the same as she did, while to her right, Brielle was far too focused on listening to pay attention to onlookers.

Babette wished she could follow Brielle’s example to just sit there and not care what anyone was thinking about her. She had nothing against being there whatsoever; after all, she had gone to church with her mother on Christmas Eve when she was a child. When Celie was ill during her last Christmas alive, Madame Maigny saw to it that Babette attended the service. But that was before life had changed. Babette was no longer the little girl she used to be. Now, all she could feel was discomfort, threatened by gossip and lust in a place that was meant to be peaceful and full of good will, especially at Christmas. In the supposedly most welcoming place in the world, she felt like an outcast.

But as she looked at Brielle at her side again, Babette could not resist feeling that this was where they should be, seeing her young friend happier than she had been since Babette had met her. First a glorious day with Odette and Aubrey treating her with the same kindness they had shown Babette herself and now this familiar setting that the girl adored. It was all worth it, and in time, Babette was able to relax from that solitary thought.

When the familiar ounce of boredom began to rear its head, however, Babette instinctively started to let her attention drift as she used to do when she was little. The cathedral was still the most breathtaking jewel of Paris, with the majesty of stained glass windows shining brightly even in candlelight and statues standing tall and beautiful. A simple nudge from Odette pulled her back to reality, but Babette was puzzled when she received, not a scolding look to pay attention, but a nod gesturing across the room.

A young man, perhaps a few years older than her, turned his blushing face away as she noticed him looking in her direction. Curiously, Babette kept her attention on him for a moment until he had the nerve to look at her again, and she smiled gently when he did. He certainly was not unpleasant to look at, that was certain; light sandy hair, green eyes, and the most gorgeous smile she had ever seen. When he waved subtly, she nodded in return, grinning flirtatiously, a grin that she had perfected in her days of performing. The gentleman averted his eyes a bit, smiling shyly as he blushed a brighter red, and Babette felt a surge of pride. Attentive men were a challenge, and shyness was a victory, she knew, as men were rarely seen in such a state.

Only when the service drew to a close did their attentions return to reality, and Odette and Aubrey smirked teasingly as the four of them stood to leave.

“A true Fleurette if I ever saw one,” Odette said softly. “You reeled him in just by _looking_ at him!”

“Please, I hardly did anything, and why should I?” Babette laughed. “Who in their right mind finds a man in church?”

“Apparently you,” Brielle said, admittedly impressed, which surprised her companions.

“Really, it was nothing,” Babette said insistently, although still beaming at the thought.

“Mmm-hmm, it was nothing all right,” Aubrey said in disbelief. “That is why he is coming this way as we speak.”

Babette whirled around in her place, nearly falling as she did, but thankfully balance was in her favor. The girls merely took a step back, respectful yet curious.

“ _Bonsoir, mademoiselle,_ ” the gentleman said softly when he approached her.

Babette grinned. “ _Bonsoir, monsieur; Joyeux Noël_.”

The man smiled in return. “Same to you. I…simply wanted to beg your forgiveness for my impolite staring this evening.”

Babette managed to suppress a laugh; that was certainly the first time she had heard those words.

“Believe me, I did not mind at all,” she said reassuringly. “From such a handsome gentleman, I call it a compliment.”

The man seemed more at ease with her understanding. “My thanks for your kind words,” he said, obviously comfortable now with the meeting. “I must admit, and forgive my boldness, that even if I had insulted you, it was difficult not to look at such a beauty.”

Babette raised an eyebrow playfully at the familiar game. “Flattery, the finest weapon a man can use.”

The man laughed heartily. “Hardly a minute and the lady’s pleasant charm brings me close to a surrender? You must be a marvelous combatant in the field.”

“You have no idea,” Babette replied with a confident smirk.

The man grinned with admiration, but as he was about to speak again, an elder woman called out behind him.

“Lucien de Bontecou, we are going to be late, and I will not stand for such disrespect towards our friends!”

The man rolled his eyes discreetly. “Mademoiselle must excuse me, although yours is the much preferred company I would rather keep at present.”

Babette nodded understandingly, but regretted being on open ground instead of her own territory where he would be free to stay with her. “Likewise, _monsieur_.”

“ _Lucien!_ ”

“Coming Mother!” he shouted over his shoulder, blushing furiously now more than ever. With a bow and kiss to Babette’s hand, he excused himself once again, wishing her farewell before rejoining his family.

When Babette turned to do the same to her own small family, she was met with different reactions from the girls. Aubrey was still sporting a teasing smirk while Brielle smiled with adoration watching the man leave as if he had been complimenting her instead. Odette had an odd expression of thoughtfulness, however, before realization struck intensely.

“ _Mon Dieu_ , de Bontecou!” she muttered, quite loudly. “Now I remember!”

“What is it?” Babette asked, puzzled.

“My father used to do business with the Comte de Bontecou,” she began but Babette interrupted, her eyes widening.

“Did you just say the ‘ _Comte_ de Bontecou’?”

Odette nodded quickly. “They are one of the most respected families in France, let alone Paris. That was their son!”

Aubrey could not resist a laugh as she spoke up. “Well, well, when you reel in a man, you sure know how to nab the best!”

“D’Araignée would put you on a pedestal if you brought him home!” Brielle said excitedly. “Not to mention he is rather handsome and extremely charming, which makes him even _more_ wonderful!”

Babette smiled wistfully at the thought. Indeed, nobles were regulars at _La Fleur Noire_ ; it would not be shocking if this Lucien actually went there. But D’Araignée would be thrilled to have someone of such importance as a patron, and it certainly would be nice to see him so often if all nights would be like the moment they had just shared. This had definite possibilities, very distinctly brilliant possibilities…

“And it will never happen,” she concluded sadly aloud.

“What?” Odette asked.

“He does not even know my name, nor the fact that I am a Fleurette,” Babette explained. “I have never seen him at home before and most likely never will now.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Could always follow him,” Aubrey blurted out suggestively.

Babette laughed. “Aubrey, please, there is no way…” She trailed off as she saw that her friend remained serious. “Aubrey. You are jesting…right?”

“Not at all,” Aubrey replied, smiling as though plotting. Turning to Odette, she asked, “What is the biggest social event tonight?”

“How should I know?” Odette asked in response. “We were never invited to anything important like a noble affair.”

“But surely your father, as a merchant, had to have orders up to his eyeballs for some grand ball of sorts!”

Odette thought for a moment. “The only event I could think of would be the prince regent’s ball.” The girls looked at her blankly. “The king’s brother,” she added bluntly; that they understood. “But we will never get in there.”

“Oh ye of little faith, why _not_?”

“Well, you are so smart!” Odette countered, folding her arms across her chest in frustration. “How do _you_ suggest we get in?”

“Easy, just walk right in as though we belong there.”

“Oh definitely,” Odette said sarcastically. “As though they would just let us in, no trouble at all!”

Aubrey waved a hand dismissively. “You really think that nobles write out the guest list themselves? They have servants for that, servants who can be bribed if necessary like any normal human being!”

Babette shook her head. “Aubrey, you are out of your mind.”

“Oh come now, where is your sense of adventure, _mes amies_?”

“Even if it could be done,” Brielle offered nervously, “D’Araignée would have our heads! She said earlier that she wanted us back by midnight!”

“D’Araignée doesn’t have to know,” Aubrey said conspiratorially. “Even so, if she did find out _and_ if Babette brings in one of France’s richest sons, I am pretty sure that all will be forgiven.”

The three girls looked at each other, not wanting to admit defeat in battle but finding little left to defend themselves with.

“You really think we can do this?” Babette asked slowly.

“The least we can do is try, but I really believe we can,” Aubrey said confidently. “This night has a reputation for being miraculous; we might as well use it to our advantage.”

With that, Aubrey put her hand in front of her, looking at her companions expectantly. Babette hesitated one last time before she covered it with her own, followed by Odette and then Brielle.

Aubrey nodded satisfied with the response. “Then it’s decided. We go back home, wait until D’Araignée turns in for the night, and then sneak out to spend a few hours at this party. We will be home by morning and still get some sleep before performances begin tomorrow night, simple as that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> Joyeux Noël - Merry Christmas  
> Bonsoir - Good evening
> 
> Writer's Notes and Memories:  
> ~ Lucien de Bontecou conflicted many readers. Between this, and the next story in the series, he grew his own fanbase. Definitely at the top of my OC list.


	7. The Christmas Eve Ball

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Babette © Disney  
> All Original Characters © myself

“The Duc de Bovez and family!”

The girls tensed fretfully as they waited on the grand staircase leading to the prince’s ballroom.  Although feeling somewhat fortunate to have made it this far, their nerves had not settled as well as they thought.

They had barely returned to _La Fleur Noire_ in time, and D’Araignée had angrily sent them up to bed, mumbling about how selfish and unappreciative they were for taking advantage of her generosity.  They, in turn, did as they were told without argument, waiting with bated breath in their rooms as they listened for D’Araignée’s door to shut tight for the night.  When that was done, and they saw the light under the door go out, they made a quiet dash for the front door to find a carriage.  Doing so did not take long, and soon enough, they had arrived at the château where they were presently waiting and thinking fast.

“Damn it, Aubrey, what do you suggest we do now?” Odette asked under her breath as the line of people grew shorter.

“How should I know?” Aubrey hissed.  “Do what we did at the door: pay the man and make up a name!”

Babette sighed, comfortingly patting a frightened Brielle’s hand as the girl clutched to her arm.  If everything went as planned, it certainly would be a Christmas miracle.

“Names?”

The girls glanced at one another before Babette stepped forward.

“The…la Fleur sisters, _monsieur_ ,” she said, trying to sound as convincing as possible.

The majordomo looked them over suspiciously.  “I do not believe his highness invited anyone by that name.”

“We are…guests of the Comte de Bontecou,” she added quickly, using the only important name she knew.  “We were told it would be all right to come with his family.”

The majordomo shook his head as he began to usher the girls aside.  “A likely story that you obviously did not plan well enough, _mademoiselle_.  Now I suggest the lot of you be on your way.”

“Edmond!  The lady is telling the truth; it is all right!”

The servant turned immediately, bowing in respect to the man calling him.  To the girls’ relief and delight, it was Lucien de Bontecou.

“Monsieur le Vicomte!” Edmond cried.  “Are you certain that these…young ladies are attending with your family?”

“Indeed, with his highness’ permission, I assure you,” Lucien replied without missing a beat.  “Mademoiselle…”

“Babette,” the lady herself coughed discreetly in assistance.

“Babette and her sisters are distant cousins of ours, visiting for the holiday.”

Reassured by the gentleman’s word, Edmond nodded.  “In that case, their names again please?  For proper announcement?”

Lucien waved his hand dismissively.  “No need for that.  I will introduce them to everyone myself; by all means, carry on.”

The girls stifled their laughter as Edmond bowed once again and allowed them passage.  When Lucien led them inside, they could not help but be stunned by how incredibly beautiful and massive the ballroom was.  All of _La Fleur Noire_ could fit inside of it!

“How honored I am that such kind ladies chose to risk everything to follow a fool like me to a grand party,” the young vicomte said, breaking their moment of awe.

“Some of us more than others, Monsieur le Vicomte,” Aubrey said, giving Babette a playful smirk, and earning a nudge from Babette in return.

Lucien smiled as he looked at Babette.  “Make that truly honored then.”

Babette averted her gaze at the risk of blushing profusely.  Fleurettes did not blush in front of any man; they held onto control and did not give in by showing weakness in such actions.  Her companions merely smirked teasingly at her apparently being smitten over the gentleman.

“If Monsieur will excuse us, these sisters can keep themselves entertained,” Odette said, ignoring the look Babette shot at her.

Lucien’s smile grew as he offered his arm to Babette.  “I completely understand; I was about to ask if Mademoiselle would accept my invitation to the dance floor anyway.”

Babette felt a momentary surge of uncertainty.  On a normal night at _La Fleur Noire_ , a man offering his arm or hand meant a trip up the stairs, but unlike Lucien, those men did not have the promise of kindness and courtesy in their eyes. 

Slowly, keeping her gaze locked with his, seeing how sincere his intentions were, she accepted.  “How could I refuse?” 

As he walked her to the floor, she visibly crossed her fingers behind her back in hope and confidence, and the girls giggled at the action to themselves before moving on to enjoy the evening.

Across the room, the court musicians began to play a melodious tune, and Babette surprisingly startled a bit as Lucien placed his one hand at her waist and took up one of her own with the other.  When the dance officially began, she nearly panicked as she found herself completely unfamiliar with the steps.  Babette could not understand it; she made a living by flirting and dancing at home!  Yet at the palace, she felt so awkward about things that should have been very familiar!

“I take it that you do not know this one?” Lucien asked, obviously trying not to laugh.

Babette pouted adorably.  “I can honestly say that this is not what I am used to.”

“Well here, let me show you; it is not difficult once you get used to it.”

Lucien led her towards the outskirts of the floor, patiently letting her grow accustomed to the steps and correcting those she did wrong.  In hardly any time at all, they were moving gracefully along with the other couples.

“There, perfect!” Lucien commented with approval.  “You are doing splendidly!”

Babette smiled, reveling in the compliments.  “I am a fast learner.”

“Very impressively so,” Lucien agreed.  With a playful smirk, he added, “You could almost pass for a noble now.”

Babette reflected his expression.  “Who says that I am not?”

“Mademoiselle, forgive me, but it is beyond obvious that you are not,” he laughed.

“In that case, I suppose I could try to convince you,” Babette challenged, as she paused thoughtfully.  Straightening her posture, stiff as a rod, she continued haughtily, “Monsieur, how _dare_ you doubt me!  I demand an apology this minute!”  As Lucien chuckled heartily, she asked, “How was that?”

“Admittedly decent,” he replied, bordering on the brink of hysterics.

Babette gasped mockingly hurt.  “The man has nothing against wounding a complete stranger?”

Lucien smiled pleasantly, one of his most attractive features, Babette noted.  “A very pleasant stranger, and if the lady must know, it is a good thing that you are not one of us.”

“Really?  Why is that?”

“Call it…a breath of fresh air, if you will,” he said.  “You delightfully stand out from the crowd, and in the very short time that we have been acquainted, I find myself very much wanting to remain in your company.  You have very much intrigued me, if you will permit my saying so.”

“Believe me, _monsieur_ ; there is little a man can say that would truly shock me.”

Lucien looked at her curiously.  “I suppose it is my turn to ask: really?”

Babette nodded, purposely keeping silent as the dance drew to a close.  As the couples left the floor, Lucien led her to an intimate corner, the best one could do on a cold night like this when the weather made it uncomfortable to be outside.

“These dances always tire me,” he said, taking a deep breath.

Babette choked back a laugh, attempting to hide it, but failed miserably.

“What is so funny?” Lucien asked, puzzled.

“A simple dance like that tires you?” she asked in return, now clearly amused.

“Considering that I do not dance often, it does, oui.”

Babette shook her head with a smirk.  “Monsieur le Vicomte, I assure you, you have no idea what exhausting dancing is.”

Lucien raised that handsome eyebrow of his.  “Pray, explain.”

Babette shrugged with a coy smile.  “Let us say that between the two of us, I know more about that kind of dancing than you do.”

“Oh?”

Babette nodded, giggling as she confirmed, “Oh.”

When she gave no further answer, Lucien simply gazed at her, captivated.  Girls he had met in the past would never stop talking about all the wonderful things about them, trying to gain favor from him when it came time for him to choose a bride, he thought bitterly.  As if he did not know everything about everyone!  There was nothing they could not tell him that he had not already heard!  It was always the same.

Until now, that is.  Throughout the night, Babette had teased him, flirted with him, but mysteriously eluding direct explanation.  Propriety, he knew, would deem him a fool; his parents had raised him to learn as much about a girl’s breeding and upbringing before any thoughts of courtship could be made.  He had not even known this girl for more than an hour, and after tonight, the chances of seeing her again were highly unlikely.  Yet the only place he wanted to be was here, with her, hanging on her every word, fascinated, and determined to learn more about her. 

“I suppose that is all you are going to tell me then,” he murmured.  “But please, I insist you tell me what a man has to do to learn more about you.”

Something about the look in his eyes both attracted Babette to him but at the same time made her feel…rather embarrassed as he spoke.  There was no longer a playful game, but strong sincerity and desire to be with her.  This was serious.

She could not tell him the truth now, of that she was certain.  If she told him that they had only followed him to lure him to _La Fleur Noire_ for no better reason than favor, he would despise her.  More than that, she could not even tell him what she was!  He was a noble!  The truth would only bring either disgust or lust.  No, she could not tell him the truth.

“Perhaps someday I will tell you, but not today, monsieur,” she answered. 

“Please, no more of the formalities,” he said adamantly.  “It is not _monsieur_ , but Lucien.”

Babette swallowed nervously.  “Lucien,” she repeated.  It felt so right to call him that, even though she knew that it should not.  “If you insist, but then you must return the favor to me.”

“Of course…Babette, _oui_?”

This had to stop, and it had to stop now.  Flashing her brilliant smirk, she replied, “Hmm, handsome, charming, and a very good memory as well.  I am impressed.”

There, that was how she should be talking to him; that was how she must.  That was how it had to be.

**ooo**

As the hours passed, the girls kept a close watch on Babette and her gentleman.  Everything seemed to be in her favor, they noticed, seeing how close the pair was growing as they chatted away the evening.  But before they knew it, it was time to go home.

“Pardon the interruption,” Odette said respectfully when she approached them.  “But we really must be leaving; it is getting late and _Mother_ will be very displeased if we stay here any longer.”

Babette looked at her pleadingly, begging through her gaze for a few more minutes like a child wishing to stay up past bedtime, but Odette remained steadfast, not moving a muscle.

Babette frowned.  “Very well, I will be right there, I promise.”

“One minute, no more.”

“The faster I say goodbye, the faster I can meet you,” Babette countered.

Odette sighed but nodded before she left them alone again.  Babette turned her disappointed eyes on Lucien.

“This is really goodbye then?” he asked, attempting a smile.

Babette laughed as she rose to leave, Lucien in tow.  “There is still so much more you need to find out about me, you said so yourself; how could it be goodbye if that is true?”

“Then how am I to find you?” he asked persistently.

Babette looked at him for a long moment, both thinking of how to tell him and wanting to remember his every beautiful feature.

“ _La Rue de Grenoble_ , where the Black Flower grows,” she said, speaking the words that every Fleurette was taught to remember their way home.  “I promise, you can always find me there.”

Before Lucien could ask anymore, Odette began calling for Babette again.

“I have to go,” Babette said, sadly.  “Merci, Lucien, for making this Christmas Eve ever so…enjoyable.”

And with those final words, she was gone.

**ooo**

That night, just when Babette had tucked herself comfortably into bed, there was a knock on her door.

“What?” she called, not bothering to hide her irritation.

Odette entered, closing the door behind her excitedly, all practical manners and uptight appearances vanished.

“I wanted to hear how everything went before you went to sleep,” she said, jumping for the bed and bouncing on it like a bubbly child.

“Easy!” Babette cried, sitting up tiredly.  “There is a person who can feel pain in this bed you know!”

“Oh don’t be such a whiny baby!” Odette hissed as both girls moved into a gossip position.  “So tell me!  How long is D’Araignée going to kiss your feet after tonight?”

Babette shrugged.  “I do not know.”

“What do you mean?” Odette asked.  “You and the vicomte seemed to be pretty cozy tonight; why would he not come see you?  Didn’t you tell him where you were from?”

“Sort of.”

“Sort of?  Babette, _chérie_ , I am just as tired as you are; you need to be a bit more clear.”

“I…only told him what you used to tell me when I was a child,” Babette answered.  “I could not tell him the truth.”

“Why not?”

Babette looked distantly out the window, as if searching the heavens for him.  “He would hate me.”

Odette said nothing for a moment, only sighing as she saw the look in her friend’s eyes: that of romantic longing, the death sentence to any Fleurette.

“You were ashamed,” she said.  “You…love him, don’t you?”

Babette shook her head, but kept her eyes averted.  “No, not really.  Just…like him a lot, that is all.”

“ _Chérie_ , do not play the virtuous woman now,” Odette scolded gently.  “Perhaps it is for the better that you did not tell him.”

“What do you mean?”

“Learn this, and learn it now,” Odette warned.  “Love is not worth it in this life.  You really think a man like that would love one of us?”

“I never said I loved him!  I just met him!” Babette argued indignantly.

“Babette,” Odette said knowingly.  “You can’t fool me; you never could.  I can see it in your eyes.  Maybe you do not realize it yet, but you are on a dangerous path.  Stop following it now before it is too late; the last thing I want is to see you get hurt.  No man will ever want love in an emotional sense from us, remember that.”

Babette sighed, merely nodding submissively.  For once, Odette did not know what she was talking about.  Even if this was love, Odette had not seen the true way Lucien had treated her; this man would be different if they ever met again.  After her friend left her alone for the night, Babette closed her eyes, all the while seeing Lucien’s handsome smile in her dreams.  She felt in her heart that her life was about to change.


	8. Passion and Power

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Babette © Disney  
> All Original Characters © myself

With the holidays many weeks behind them, life, as usual, returned to the way it had always been at _La Fleur Noire_.  A new year had begun, yet the days went on like ever before, Babette realized, sulking as she searched the room constantly for any sign of Lucien.  But every night her searches failed; he never came. 

Truth be told, Babette could not help feeling hurt, despite knowing that she deserved it, thinking that he was truly interested in her as anything more than a passing delight.  Those nights after the ball had filled her mind with so many childish daydreams that he would come for her and take her as far away from this God-awful hole as possible.  He could have been her chance, her one chance, to be completely happy!  As much as she loved the girls that had become sisters to her, _La Fleur Noire_ was still a prison in Babette’s eyes, a place that she had been unwillingly sold to and sentenced to stay in for the rest of her days.  Lucien could have changed all of that, she was so sure!

Now Babette mockingly laughed at herself for ever having thought of such ideas.  Odette was right; the moment with Lucien at the Christmas Eve Ball had only been that: a moment.  Babette was merely a temporary escape from the women of his world.  If he had really wanted to find her, he would have done so by now, even with the vague instructions she had given him.  Every man in Paris knew about _La Fleur Noire_ and could have told him what her words had meant if he had only asked!

 _He could never want you in the same way that you want him_ , she thought, scolding herself.  _Face it, you will_ always _live here!  Make the most of it!_

In time, the tiny wounds did heal, and soon enough, Babette was herself again, a relief to some, a cause of dismay to one.

Across the main room one evening, Fifi scowled as her gentleman caller could not keep his eyes off of Babette’s performance.

“What would it take to get that little number to bring a man to her room?” he thought aloud, completely enthralled despite the oncoming drunkenness that his slurring speech was heavily beginning to reveal.

Fifi gritted her teeth in an attempt to remain in control of her temper, but barely succeeded.  She leaned towards the man’s ear, taking special care of the surrounding area with her kisses. 

“Don’t go getting any ideas about that little prude, _mon cher_ ,” she purred.  “You will never get anywhere near her; she is going to die the old virgin of _La Fleur Noire_.”

The man hardly noticed, his eyes not averting from the performance.  “No harm in trying to change that; it’ll do her good!”

Fifi gathered his chin in her hand, returning his gaze to her as she pouted playfully.  “But why settle for fruitless efforts when you already have a plentiful bounty here in your arms?” she asked, purposely rubbing against him as she slid closer in his lap.

The man only brushed her hand away.  “There is always time for that later; I want to watch!” he said, continuing to do so.

Fifi snarled, pushing herself away and taking her glass with her when she moved to sulk in a dark corner.  Taking a sip, she glared over the rim at her rival threateningly.  Ever since D’Araignée had foolishly let the little thief dance, Babette had become the most painful thorn in Fifi’s side, taking the eyes of men quickly into her possession.  And what did she do with the prize?  Wasted it!  Took it away and wasted its perfectly good use on nothing!

Fifi threw the glass angrily at the floor, the noise in the room overpowering the sound of it shattering.  D’Araignée would have a fit when she found it, no doubt, being the miserly witch she was when it came to spending money on replacing the smallest things.  Fifi could not care less, planning to do what she always did: blame it on one of the less favored girls.  For now, breaking the glass was the better option over breaking Babette’s scrawny little neck. 

Prowling her way to the wings, causing everyone in her path to shudder from the look on her face, Fifi waited for her competition with no thoughts of mercy on her mind.  No one took precious attention and favor away from her and got away with it.  The brat would pay dearly if she had any say.

When Babette herself returned to the wings, she gasped, admittedly startled by Fifi’s presence, then alarmed when she noticed the look on the woman’s face.  If there was anything Odette and Aubrey had taught her well, it was to immediately get out of Fifi’s way when such an expression was present.  With so little room to run, however, Babette simply smiled, excusing herself as she moved to walk around her.  But much to her discomfort, it was evident that Fifi would not let her get away so easily, standing to block her escape route.

Surprisingly, Fifi relaxed into a smile, folding her arms and leaning against a wall.  “Quite the little diva, you are becoming,” she said with a nod to the curtain.

“Perhaps.  Men are never quiet about something that pleases them, you should know that,” Babette replied, caution very present in her tone.

Fifi’s eyes narrowed, her short fuse of a temper rapidly burning low.  “And that is supposed to mean…?”

“Just that they know what they like,” Babette answered without delay.  She was anything but a fool, having learned quickly over the years that the best way to calm Fifi was with flattery.  “From the applause you yourself get, they must like you very much!  We all know that.”

It took a moment to sink in, and Fifi’s smile widened once again, but there was still a sinister undertone very present in it that made Babette cringe discreetly.

“Indeed, your puny mind certainly does work when it must,” Fifi said tauntingly, the smile fading with every word.  “But I would play the cards very carefully if I were you.”

“What do you mean?”

Fifi circled her like a hawk going in for the kill, fierce and confident.  “Poor sweet, innocent little Babette,” she sneered.  “So naïve, you hardly seem to know where such attention from men can lead you.”

Babette clenched her jaw tightly.  “Of course I know; I am not stupid.  But my bed is shared with no one.”

Fifi grinned maliciously.  “And that is exactly how things should stay; you probably wouldn’t know your way around a man if he walked up to you bare to the bone.  I would not want to see your ignorance make you embarrass yourself.  Leave a man’s attention to the _true_ Fleurettes.”  She paused to lean closely into the girl’s ear, whispering threateningly, “Or else pay the price that such actions deserve.  After all, stealing isn’t a very nice thing to do.”

Babette hardly flinched as Fifi purposely gave her a little shove before taking her place on the floor.  Babette stayed put, glaring at her angrily.  Fifi was wrong; she was always wrong.  Everyone knew that Madame only favored her because Fifi gave the old woman a small, but decent share of her rendezvous earnings.  If that was not the case, she would have unquestionably been thrown onto the streets long ago.

But then why did Babette feel so hurt by Fifi’s words?  Nothing Fifi said had ever mattered before.

“Why in the world are you wasting your time watching her?”

Babette turned upon hearing Aubrey’s voice as her friend stood beside her.

“I have no idea,” she answered with a shrug.

Aubrey drew her close protectively, leading her away.  From the tone in Babette’s voice, it was clear to Aubrey that Fifi had not kept her mouth shut about something or other.  As they entered one of the back dressing rooms, Odette looked up concerned.  All Aubrey had to do was mouth Fifi’s name for a complete explanation.

Babette flopped down in one of the chairs.  “Are we expected to do anything more with men than what we already do?” she asked bluntly.

Odette and Aubrey glanced at each other, a little puzzled by the sudden question.

“What exactly were you told, petite?” Odette asked slowly.

Babette paused before she answered in the same tone.  “Nothing directly like _that_.  I was just wondering if we were.”

“But what brought this on?”

“Well,” Babette began hesitantly.  “Look at Fifi, as much as I know we do not want to.  We all know what she does behind closed doors; it is not as if she is discreet about it.  For so long, I thought it was wrong, but now…I am not so sure anymore.”

“Why?”

Babette told them everything that had occurred just a few minutes earlier.  “It was as though she expected me to do the same.  ‘Leave a man’s attention to a _true_ Fleurette.’  Does that mean we are _supposed_ to be with men?”

Babette sighed as she watched her friends share a look, the kind that clearly said “Time for another talk!”

Aubrey spoke first, very simply saying, “In a way…well, yes and no.”

“Oh that certainly helps,” Babette replied, rolling her eyes.

“What she is trying to say, _mon amie_ ,” Odette quickly said, treading carefully.  “There is really no harm in being with a man.  How you handle it is the key.”

Babette waited for further explanation, speaking only when there was none.  “You mean…”

“You sleep with one, it’s not a big deal,” Aubrey finished straightforwardly.  “One patron could actually do you a world of good in terms of favor with Madame.  It is…part of moving up in the ranks.”

Babette looked uneasy at the thought.  “But how does that make us any different from girls on the street?”

“We have dignity and choice,” Odette replied.  “We don’t take in every man off the street, chérie, and there is no price.  It is entirely your decision, and he must understand that.  The point is, if you find a man who makes you happy, no one is going to look down on you if you choose to take him to your bed.”

Seeing Babette’s mind clearly still thinking this over, trying to understand, Aubrey added, playfully conspiratorial.  “Of course, if the right man comes along, the possible rewards are worth every minute of your time.”

“How so?”

“I personally like to think of it this way,” Aubrey explained.  “Our duty in this line of work is to give men pleasure, delight, and an escape from the world outside these walls, _oui_?”

Babette nodded in understanding.

“Then there is no reason why, if possible, that we should be get something just as pleasurable in return.”

Babette sighed, frustrated.  “You have lost me again.”

“Once again, what Aubrey means is,” Odette began, “If you take a man as your lover, and you choose well, you could be as high and mighty as any woman of the upper class with the gifts some men will give you.  Jewels, furs, trinkets, fancy dinners…the possibilities are unimaginably endless.”

“Exactly,” Aubrey said.  “You take care of him, and he takes care of you.”  She paused for a moment to laugh before she continued, “And the best part is that there is no commitment.  Never be afraid to tell him it’s over; they all know very well that it is our choice, whether they like it or not.”

Babette swallowed nervously; of all things for them to say, she never expected that.  For the longest time, Fifi’s choices and actions with men had always been wrong in her mind, but now it suddenly was all right?

But then again, these were her friends telling her everything would be fine, practically normal even, if she did bring a man to her room.  In that case, it could not be as awful as she thought.

 **ooo**

During the week, the conversation haunted Babette’s mind.  Since that, she felt as though her awareness during her performances had increased tenfold.  Before, the leering patrons had blurred together in Babette’s eyes, each interchangeable with the next.  But now, she found herself alert, paying close attention to those watching her.

One evening, Babette noticed an older man not responding to her movements as wildly or crudely as many of the other customers.  He was calm and silent with a deeply intrigued look in his eyes while he watched, his chin resting comfortably on his folded hands.  From his appearance, she assumed that his lot in life was a kind one: well-groomed dark hair, graying slightly in some places, and his clothes were that of a very well-to-do gentleman.  He was not openly smiling, but there was still a ghost of a grin about his lips when his eyes met hers directly.

Babette could not resist flashing one of her own perfected flirtatious smiles, wholly taken with such a different response to her performance.  For the remainder of the dance, her focus was completely on him alone as though they were the only two people in the room.  When it was over, her intense gaze never left his until the curtains separated them.

Babette was never one to venture amongst the men without Odette or Aubrey at her side, but her fascination and curiosity about her mysterious stranger was strong enough to make her forget any shyness.  Satisfying any other men who shouted or whistled their approval as she passed with a wink and a grin, she approached the man’s table.  He in turn did not show any signs of objection.

“This seat is not taken, is it?” Babette asked, tugging the back of an empty chair across from him.

The man shook his head.  “Not at all,” he answered, gesturing her to sit.  When she did, he added, “And even if it was, the person in it would certainly have to give it up or find himself thrown out of it to make way for a woman such as you.”

Babette pouted adorably, leaning comfortably on the table.  “Monsieur must understand that I refuse to be the cause of any fights, flattering as it would be.”

“Not a fight,” he said reassuringly, reaching over to take her hand and bring it to his lips.  “Merely my choosing who will share my company.  I prefer a talented woman over anyone else, any day.”

Babette giggled playfully, not releasing his hand.  “Talent indeed,” she laughed.  “I am sure that is the first thing a man notices in a girl like me.”

“Any woman can be beautiful,” the man replied, and Babette inwardly gasped as he stroked his thumb against the back of her hand.  “But, for what my opinion is worth, that is only a part of what makes a woman so attractive.  Talent is certainly another piece of the puzzle.”

“Beauty is luck and talent is learned,” Babette countered with a smirk.  “There must be another piece or two.”

For the first time, the man smiled wholeheartedly, and Babette found herself taking the vision entirely into her memory.  She hardly heard him answer her.

“Those would be charm and wit, I believe, and you obviously have those as well,” he said.  “Most women merely accept being told they are beautiful without wanting to hear about all the other finer points of a captivating female.”

“Well, I have been told - and must agree - that I am far from a normal woman,” Babette replied confidently.

The man laughed.  “And hardly modest at that.”

Babette could not resist a laugh herself.  “Modesty is a virtue, and virtues are of little use to women like myself.”

The man smiled, very much enjoying her company.  In a playful manner of introduction, he offered his free hand to her.  “Gustave de Gentilhomme, and you are…?”

She gratefully accepted his hand, delighting in having both of his now in her own.  “Babette, _monsieur, enchantée_.”

After that first meeting, Gustave visited _La Fleur Noire_ every week, and before long, every night.  With every moment in his presence, Babette felt herself growing more and more fond of him, and he himself admitted the same feelings in return.  Since they had met, she learned that he was one of the most prominent businessmen in all of Paris with a profitable income that over time brought her many wonderful presents of admiration.  Among her favorites were a stunning silk wrap and a gold pendent necklace.

But nothing pleased Babette more than when he brought her his newest drawing or painting.  Although his most enjoyable pastime was visiting with her, much of Gustave’s spare time during the day was art.  Babette had never really found any interest in artwork before, having known nothing about it.  But every time Gustave brought her his latest work, the first words he said were how much she inspired him.  Something that one would hardly notice, an everyday object like fruit or a flower, would remind him of her and he would have to put it on paper instantly.  She hardly understood his motivation at times, but the very thought of him thinking solely of her to inspire such wonderful work was enough to make her melt.

It was this aspect of his being that brought him to her bed.  It began when he asked her to pose for him.

“Only for an hour or two, and this is your only day off,” he insisted.  “I have no idea why I have not thought of it before!  My muse, my inspiration, at last on paper!  You deserve nothing less.”

There was no doubt in her mind that Babette felt more than just a little nervous at his request.  But after so long of only sitting with Gustave in the crowded main room, never having any time with him alone with no one else around, the excitement of the idea overpowered her nerves.

With a delighted grin, Babette agreed, following him to his home, not far from _La Fleur Noire_.

When Babette was a child, she often accompanied her mother on many of Celie’s cleaning assignments.  Babette had seen her share of the fancy houses the upper class owned, but nothing like this.  There were quite a number of rooms filled with gorgeous décor and immaculately kept furniture…except for the art studio that is.

As Gustave opened the door for her, Babette hardly would have guessed she was in the same house.  Canvases and paint supplies were scattered everywhere; completed paintings hanging in random places to dry.  The chaise in the center of the room had to be its most well-kept feature.

 _Ah well,_ she mused to herself.  _From the depths of disorganization comes the splendor of art._

At first, Gustave was nothing but professional, and Babette could not resist feeling a twinge of disappointment.  As he set her position on the chaise and instructed her on how to look at him, she continuously heard so many voices shouting in her head.  One of them sounded like Fifi, mocking Babette for not yet being a true Fleurette even when the opportunity was right in front of her.  The others, however, sounded like Odette and Aubrey, reassuring her that everything would be all right.  Gustave was a wonderful man; he had been ever since she had met him.  He had showered her with gifts and attention, worshipped her even, unlike all the other patrons who merely enjoyed her as a spectacle.  He was the perfect choice, and this was the perfect time.

Biting her lip as he set up his supplies, Babette quietly stood, freeing herself from the restraint of her dress.  Part of her wanted to laugh out loud.  Years ago, being so exposed had made her feel ashamed and embarrassed.  Now, all she did was blush when he turned to her, a stunned look in his eyes.  It was a wonder how much more comfortable she felt with herself than she had when she first arrived.

When she sat once again on the chaise, Babette immediately returned to the position he had put her in, which must have become seductive and exotic judging by the looks of him.  She held his interested gaze, beckoning him to her with her eyes alone.  When he obeyed the silent command, she felt her heart beating its way up into her throat when he sat beside her.  After a rather awkward moment of staring, she could barely catch her breath as she felt a man’s touch and kiss for the first time.  The inward voices vanished, and her mind gave in to the passionate flood of new emotions.

She could hardly remember when he himself had disrobed, as well as anything else that happened between them before he had taken her.  The first time, she remembered pain and discomfort, but he soothed her with tender murmurs and his gentle touch.  She remembered him moving away from her, against her protests, but he returned seconds later, beginning to sketch roughly away at the paper and breathing intensely as he watched her still in the aftershocks of their passion.  When he was done, she drew him to her again, her memories recalling nothing except immense sensations of pleasure and ecstasy of yet another joining.

Gustave slept willingly in her embrace that night, but Babette found herself far from any thoughts of sleep.

Her eyes fleetingly looked at the sketch that he had pushed aside, and then at him.  She had done the very thing that she had condemned mere months ago: lured a man to her bed over time by her own will.  Yet she felt no regret, nor guilt or disdain. 

Instead, she felt a satisfying sense of power, superiority, and control that she had not felt since her dancing debut months ago.  Her father had sold her to this hole, throwing her aside like a worn, ripped glove, believing that she was not even worthy of being.  The joke was now on him. 

Tonight, she had become a true Fleurette.  A woman who could bring a man to his knees with just one look, who could get anything she desired using her natural feminine talents.  Men were there to admire her, want her, do what they must to be with her, and she could give them paradise or trample their dreams with just a single word.  Tonight, she had risen as high as she could go.

Closing her eyes, she grinned with pure victory and triumph as she envisioned the defeated face of Adrien.

**_Who is the worthless one now?_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writer's Notes and Memories:  
> ~ Yes, Gustave's last name means Gentleman; no, it's not a coincidence. :)  
> ~ Here you see Once the Most Awkward to Write Scene Part 2. Babette no longer being a virgin very much surpassed the dance in terms of awkward, at first, to write.  
> ~ I remember there was confusion over this chapter, and a reviewer was none too happy, claiming that I was degrading the characters by making Babette a hooker. I did have to clarify that such wasn't the case. Fleurettes are not streetwalkers. They dance, serve wine, entertain patrons. IF THEY SO CHOOSE, they may take a lover, and possibly give Madame a little kickback if that's how the arrangement is decided. However, neither taking a lover or paying the madam was required of them to do. They have choices. It wasn't part of the business.  
> The reviewer later wrote a nice message back and simply stated that she preferred my previous early version of Babette's backstory. Which was fine, and very kind of them to do. I appreciated it.


	9. Where the Black Flower Grows

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Babette © Disney  
> All Original Characters © myself

“Is that dress ready _yet_?  No dress should take _this_ long to complete!" 

Madame Veston rolled her eyes for what felt like the millionth time one warm, spring afternoon.  _A new record_ , she mused.  Overall, she and Monsieur Veston were perfect for each other, a seamstress and a tailor; of that she was certain.  But when it came to important orders, such as her current project, her husband was more of a pest than a professional, and many times she found herself wanting only to strangle him.

Nonetheless, Madame Veston did as she had always done: gathered the finished dress, placed it ever so carefully in its box, and presented it casually to her fretting husband.

“When have I ever not finished a dress in time?” she asked with a pleasant smile.

It was only upon seeing the parcel that Monsieur Veston sighed in relief.  Taking it from her, he placed a gentle kiss on her cheek before carrying the package to the storefront. 

“What would I do without you, _amour_?” he called.

“Go mad, of course!” she answered, putting away her sewing box before joining him.

At that moment, the tiny bell above the front door signaled a customer, and both of them were surprised to see Lucien de Bontecou enter their store.

“Monsieur le Vicomte, what an honor it is!” Monsieur Veston cried, bowing in the presence of an important man.

Lucien, one of the most humble of nobles, laughed dismissively.  “A delight as always to see a kind face, Monsieur Veston,” he said, offering a handshake to the man and a polite gentleman’s kiss to Madame Veston’s hand.

“To what do we owe such a visit?” she asked, making a great effort not to blush too much.

“I am here for my mother’s dress, s’il vous plait,” Lucien explained.  “I was in town all day, hoping to meet with a…friend whom I have not seen in quite some time, and thought I would check in on it.  If it is ready now, where is the sense in sending someone later?”

“Ah, you are just in time then!” Monsieur Veston said, gathering the previous parcel and opening it to show him.  “My wife completed it just moments ago!”

Although he knew absolutely nothing about the finer points of female fashion, Lucien nodded, impressed.  Even as it lay there in the box, the dress was admittedly beautiful.

“Splendid work as usual, madame,” he complimented, handing over the payment.  “You should be commended for making our ladies look so lovely.”

“ _Merci_ , Monsieur le Vicomte, you are far too kind,” Madame Veston replied in gratitude before excusing herself to gather other dresses from the back room.

With his business finished, Lucien thanked them again, took the package and bid them adieu before making his way to the door, feeling nothing but disappointment.  Where else could a girl possibly be found on any given day?  He was sure that this could have been one final place where he would find Babette, the woman that had intrigued him so at the Christmas Eve ball. 

Every day for the past few months, Lucien had tried to decipher her unusual directions, wandering about the streets of Paris, visiting every shop and establishment where he thought a woman could be.  But he never found success.  Feeling incredibly foolish at the end of the day, he would return home, needing some kind of explanation for his absence.  At least today he would have a good excuse in bringing home the Comtesse’s newest wardrobe acquisition.

“Another failure in the quest, Noblesse,” he sighed, patting his horse’s snout upon reaching her.  Sensing discomfort, the gentle mare nudged her master playfully, and Lucien could not resist a laugh. 

“You have me utterly convinced, _mon amie_ , that you must have been human in another life,” he said, patting her snout lightly.  “The best girl in the world, you are!”

Noblesse nudged him again, recognizing praise.  But she was quite a strong animal, and Lucien stumbled slightly before regaining control of his footing.  However, it would prove to be a very fortunate stumble in his favor.

Out of the corner of his eye, Lucien caught sight of a young woman approaching the Vestons’ dress shop, a very familiar woman.  Waiting until she had gone inside, he moved to the window to get a closer peek at her.  While Monsieur Veston offered his customer courtesy, Madame Veston made no attempt whatsoever, obviously wanting her out of there as soon as possible.  The woman must have felt a mutual disdain towards the seamstress, paying for her packages before quickly making her way to the door.  It was then that Lucien at last saw her face clearly, his heart leaping for joy to see that it was indeed Babette.

As she exited the store, Lucien tried to find the right words to say that would catch her attention, but by the time he found the courage to speak, she was gone.  Frustration mounting at his incompetence, he did the only thing he could: reenter the shop to ask questions.

“Forgive me for asking,” he began, “But who exactly was the young lady who just left?”

Madame Veston wrinkled her nose as if she had just smelled the most awful stench.  “A man as honorable as yourself, Monsieur le Vicomte, should put a good-for-nothing wench like that far away from your mind.  I can’t even believe my husband allows them to step foot in here.”

“Jacqueline,” Monsieur Veston said in a manner of warning.

“Well, it is true!” Madame Veston cried.  “Her and that entire bunch of disgraceful tarts from _La Fleur Noire_!”

Of all things for her to say, Lucien never expected to hear that.  “Wait a minute, the dance hall?” he asked.  “She is a showgirl?”

“Just like the others,” she huffed, more or less now muttering to herself.  “All they ever want here is for me to fix those vulgar dresses they wear, or have their lovers lavish them with new ones!  None of them deserve our fine work!”

A showgirl.  Lucien could barely comprehend the thought as he felt his heart began to beat faster.  He had never known a showgirl before. No wonder she was so mysterious, so alluring and enticing...

“Nevertheless, I have talked to this one sometimes when she comes here,” Monsieur Veston said, interrupting his thoughts.  “Sweet little thing, she is; just dealt a bad hand in life, I’m sure.  No doubt that she is just like the rest of those girls, certainly must have slept in a fair share of gentlemen’s beds, but there seems to be a good heart in her waiting to be found.”

Lucien scowled as a sudden wave of jealousy passed over him at that last comment.  His sensibility made it clear that he did not have the right to feel such emotions, having no true claim over her, but he could not help himself.  The very notion of other men delighting in a woman he was so taken with was pure torture.

“Humph, a good heart, he says, as though they are all perfect angels,” Madame Veston sniffed in an afterthought.  “I still wish you would send them all away.  Good hearts or not, tongues will start wagging upon any sight of them in here.”

Lucien hardly heard any more of their conversation; he was thinking too fast to listen.

“ _La Rue de Grenoble_ where the Black Flower grows,” Babette had told him.  How could he have been so stupid?  It all made sense now!  Everyone knew that road led to the infamous dance hall; why had he not figured it out before?

Bidding the couple farewell once again, Lucien checked his watch, growling a frustrated curse under his breath.  Truth be told, there was no time to spare, and he could not be late…

Then again, he was already late, and if he did not stay long, what harm could there possibly be?  Lucien glanced thoughtfully in the direction he had seen Babette walking, and with a determined nod, he quickly raced to Noblesse and mounted the mare.

“Everything I said earlier, Noblesse?” he said, kicking the horse into a run.  “Ignore it!  We have one last stop to make!”

**ooo**

Never had Odette and Babette startled so much as they did when a breathless Aubrey slammed the dressing room door closed behind her.  Before they could say anything, however, the older blonde leaned against the door and pointed at a puzzled Babette with a playful gleam in her eyes.

“You are not spoken for at the moment, are you?” Aubrey asked before dismissing her own question with a laugh.  “What am I saying?  Spoken for or not, you would send the fool running if you were!”

Babette raised an eyebrow, on the verge of feeling insulted.  “What exactly does that mean?”

“Only that there is no possible way that you would turn down the opportunity of a lifetime that just walked through the door downstairs,” Aubrey said, pulling a chair close to join them.

Odette feigned boredom.  “Christ, Aubrey, it will probably walk back out by the time you get to the point.”

Aubrey spitefully stuck out her tongue at her before turning to Babette again.  “One guess on who is sitting downstairs at this very moment looking for you,” she said with a conspiratorial smile.

Growing tired of her friend skirting around direct answers, Babette offered sarcastically, “The King of France?”

“You are not experienced enough for him yet,” Aubrey countered in the same tone before her grin widened.  “But perhaps the Vicomte de Bontecou will suit you better.”

Babette felt every drop of blood drain from her face as she tried to understand what she had just been told.  “Y-you did not just say…”

“Lucien de Bontecou,” Aubrey repeated, nodding to emphasize her point.

Babette gripped onto the seat of her own chair in fear of falling from it.  “Aubrey, _mon Dieu_ , you would not be so cruel!”

“Never cruel; just an ‘I told you so.’”

Babette erupted with an excited shriek as she made a flying leap for a drawer that she threw open immediately.

“I can not believe this!” she cried, frantically beginning to cover her face in pounds of powder and lip rouge.  “He finally decides to show up, I go on in a few minutes, and I look awful!”

Odette snatched away the powder puff while Aubrey handled the rouge.

“And you are going to look worse if you keep at this!” Odette laughed, dabbing a cloth to her tongue to clear away her friend’s excessive make-up attempts.

“I want him to notice _me_ , not anyone else,” Babette argued, swatting Odette away stubbornly.  “I lost my chance once; I will not do it again.”

“If you put this much on, he will only see how foolish you are,” Odette countered, continuing cleaning her up despite the protests.  When she was satisfied with her work, she added reassuringly, “There, _now_ you look more like the girl who caught his interest.”

Babette glanced at the mirror, thoughtful and yet a complete bundle of nerves.  Lucien.  Lucien was here, at long last!  She would not ruin everything this time.  Tonight, he was on her territory; she was not obligated to “behave.”

Taking a deep breath, she asked, “You are sure I look perfect?”

“You look fine.”

“No,” Babette said confidently.  “I need perfection.”

“Maybe tie up your hair,” Aubrey suggested.  “It’s one of your best features.  Tie it up now and let it down when you get out there.  He will love it!”

Without hesitation, Babette nodded, loosely tying her long dark hair in place and fixing the pin so that it was secure but easily accessible.

“Now _that_ is perfection,” Odette said, the three of them looking at the reflection.  “He will be yours again in no time.”

Babette took a deep breath as, right on time, D’Araignée began calling for her impatiently.

“ _Dieu_ , I hope so.”

**ooo**

Not since her early days had Babette felt as anxious as she was from the moment she took her place on the floor.  Thankfully, her ability to hide any sign of nerves had greatly improved.  Though her heart was pounding, she held her head high with her usual dominant pride while she looked around the room, seeking out Lucien.  At first, she could hardly see anyone, blaming both her anxiety and the dim lighting.

But then, out of the corner of her eye, she saw him sitting at a far table, her knight in shining armor, her salvation.  The one man that she adored and trusted, who would take her away from this prison to a place where they could both be together for the rest of their lives.  Babette may not have admitted it to Odette that night, but her friend knew the truth.  Even after one short night in Lucien’s company, he was the only man that truly held Babette’s heart captive.  They belonged together, she was so sure.

His attention was hers and hers alone, and Babette held onto it expertly as she coyly shaded her eyes beneath her lashes.  So far away, yet she could sense his exhilaration, so much that she could taste it.  Not averting her gaze, she reached for the pin in her hair to release her dark locks down her back, letting them flow freely as she began to dance across the floor.

Following her every step, Lucien felt himself hardly able to breathe.  The mysterious girl at the ball had caught his curiosity and delighted him with fresh, pleasant conversation.  But nothing he could have ever dreamed of could prepare him for this.

Lucien took a sip of wine, although it was difficult to swallow.  The longer he continued to watch Babette, the more he desired her. He had never felt this way about a woman before. Oh, of course he had met many beautiful women in his life - elegant, refined women with the finest of clothes and not a hair out of place. He had been attracted to them, as any man would be, but nothing close to what he felt for Babette. She was not merely beautiful - she was _thrilling,_ her very presence intoxicating. Her every movement and facial expression held mystery and a tantalizing promise. She was unlike any woman he had ever met. He could not get enough of her, and _had_ to have her.

Before he could think anymore, he felt his own nerves begin to overtake him as her dance had ended and she made her way to his table.

“Ah, Monsieur Lucien,” Babette said, a playful tone already inhabiting her voice.  “It has been far too long since I have seen you.  I was beginning to think that you had forgotten about me." 

Lucien stood awkwardly and reached for her hand, which Babette offered willingly.  “Mademoiselle Babette, no one can ever forget you,” he said, politely kissing her hand, and gesturing her to a chair.  “May I ask for a few minutes of your company?" 

Babette smiled, as beautiful as he remembered it, and drew the chair directly next to Lucien’s.  He tried desperately not to notice the closeness, nor the fact that her skirt parted quite scandalously as she made herself comfortable.  She could see his eyes darting quickly to meet her own, though it was obvious where they wanted to stay.

“ _Mon cher_ Vicomte,” she murmured leaning in closer to him, casually resting her hand on his arm.  She could not help but feel a surge of delight in seeing him startle gently at her action.  “Formality is not required here, and even if it was, we are no longer strangers.  I believe that you yourself said that long ago.”

“Yes,” he agreed.  “By the Lord’s good graces, we did indeed become fast friends.  Though, I must admit, it would be very difficult not to find your company so delightful.”

“So I have been told,” Babette laughed, nodding around the room. 

Pretending not to notice her own actions, she rubbed her foot against his, but then she hesitated. Normally she would have touched him more intimately - something light and teasing to inflame his desire - but she suddenly felt self-conscious. Lucien was not the usual kind of man who came to _La Fleur Noire_.  He was a nobleman, used to refined women of good breeding, and she cared for him so much. She wanted him to care for her too, and she was desperately afraid that he would look down on her for what she was.

Still...he had seen her dance, and it only seemed to make her more attractive in his eyes. Experimentally, she put her hand on his thigh, and smiled to see him practically stop breathing. He was hers. She knew it, and confidence surged through her. She did not have to pretend. He wanted her exactly the way she was.

“But the only company I have been wishing for is yours,” she said, pouting adorably.  “I have missed you so very much; why did you leave me wishing for so long?”

Lucien shifted a bit in his seat, although his hand soon covered hers to keep it in place.  “I was foolish, and I pray you forgive me,” he said pleadingly.  “I should have known better; who does not know how to find the grand _La Fleur Noire_?”

Babette could not resist teasing.  “While all may know the way, obviously it is easy to forget.”

Lucien smiled good-humoredly.  “Well, of one thing, I am very certain.”

“And what is that?”

Gradually growing more daring by the minute, Lucien brought her hand to his lips again, almost in a manner of reverence.  “I missed Mademoiselle’s company just as much as she has missed mine, and I will never forget the way here if it means seeing her.”

Babette smirked playfully, pleased at hearing such responses, but before she could respond, music once again began to play.

Lucien looked in the direction of the floor in confusion.  “Performance music, but no performance?” he asked.

Babette stood, tugging on his hand.  “It is a group dance, Fleurettes’ choice,” she explained.  “And I insist that you be my partner.  I seem to remember that Monsieur is quite the talented dancer himself, and I demand only the best to dance with the best.”

Lucien laughed heartily.  “Never the modest one, are you?”

“Modesty was never a lesson I learned well, non.”

Lucien grinned, following her lead to join the other Fleurettes and their choice partners on the floor.  “Very well,” he agreed.  “I will do as the lady asks.”

Drawing him close, wrapping her arms around him, Babette raised an eyebrow in flirtatious curiosity.  “Even if I were to ask that you come to see me as often as possible?” she asked.

Admittedly, Lucien had to force himself to breathe normally upon feeling her pressed closely against him.  When he was certain he could speak, he said, “Gladly, as long as you wish me to.”

Babette said nothing more, only smiled gently before resting her head against his chest, hardly able to believe that she was not dreaming.  She had known it before, and she knew it now.  Life was most assuredly about to change, and no further questions were needed to know that Lucien had indeed felt the same.


	10. The Choice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Babette © Disney  
> All Original Characters © myself

Outside of the de Bontecou château, a young servant paced anxiously.  His master was late, again, for the millionth time in the past month.  Just another batch of excuses that they would have to come up with for the old _comte_ and _comtesse_ …no, that was wrong.  _He_ would be the one that would have to come up with lies.  Why did he have to be the better liar of the two of them anyway?  His talent for making up convincing stories to cover their hides since they were children was both a blessing and a curse.

Twenty minutes now, _twenty_ minutes that he would have to account for.  This was going to be far from easy, and he knew he had to think fast.  Maybe they could go jump in the pond, saying that Noblesse had thrown Lucien in and he had to help him!  Non, that was too out of reach; besides, everyone knew Lucien was a decent swimmer.  What else, what else?  Perhaps a visit to an old schoolmate where Lucien had lost track of time?  Non, too embarrassingly simple; he could do much better than that!

Then again, no he could not, he realized with a sigh.  He had used all of best work on Lucien already!  There truly was nothing left!

The young man checked his watch again.  Twenty-five minutes, just as he had suspected.

With a frustrated sigh, he continued pacing until something in the window caught his attention.

If there was any good thing about spring, it was the intense spring-cleaning that occurred throughout the château.  _And may the Lord be thanked for it_ , he thought with a delighted grin as one of the housemaids spotted him looking while she cleaned the window.  She smiled shyly as he began to make silent but pleasant conversation with her, the sort that often led to a rendezvous in a secluded nook somewhere later that night.

“As usual, Lumière is getting into trouble without me, I see!  Whatever should we do with him?”

The servant, Lumière, whirled around startled as he found Lucien riding up the path towards him.  But by the time he turned back to his window conversation, Lumière frowned to find that his lovely center of attention had continued her work upon seeing Lucien.  So much for his evening plans.

Lucien winced as he dismounted Noblesse, gathering a package before handing over the reins to Lumière.  “Bad timing?” he asked.

“ _Non_ , not entirely,” Lumière replied, leading the horse to the stables as Lucien followed.  “Nothing that I can not arrange later; servant first above all else as we both know.”

“Nonetheless, you are my best friend,” Lucien countered, jumping easily to sit on the stall gate as Lumière settled Noblesse in.  He could not resist a chuckle as he added, “I should know better by now not to interrupt you when in romantic pursuit.”

Lumière laughed gently.  All things considered, he would admit that his lot in life was a fortunate one.  Master and servant aside, the boys had been the best of friends since they were children, so much so that there was no surprise in anyone’s mind when Lumière was made Lucien’s valet, and that was exactly how things had remained to this day.

“Please, do not worry yourself over it, _mon ami_ ,” Lumière said reassuringly before allowing his tone to become serious.  “Better to focus on that than to worry about more important things.”

Lucien frowned at what he knew was inevitably to come.  “What lovely little beauty are my doting parents planning for me to meet tonight?” he asked, sarcasm dripping from his words.

Lumière sighed, now wishing that Lucien was still nowhere to be found.  “Whatever you do, please do not kill the messenger.”

“Oh, this sounds promising.”

“Does the name Nicolette de Solange sound familiar?”

Lucien stared at him blankly.  “Nicolette is here?  _Dieu_ , I have not seen her since we were eleven, before the disagreement between our parents.”

Lumière nodded.  “They have all settled their differences, for both of your sakes, I suppose, and from what I have heard earlier…the betrothal is once again set in stone.”

Lucien’s face furiously took on an angered shade of red.  “Without consulting me?  They are so insistent that I ‘grow up,’ yet they make such a decision without my opinion?”

Lumière offered a knowing look, perhaps one of the few people who could do so when Lucien was this upset.  “Being reasonable, would you have agreed to it?”

Lucien jumped from the gate, storming his way to the château with Lumière in tow.  “That is not the point!  When will they understand that my life belongs to me?”

Lumière stood in front of him, planting his feet firmly in place before Lucien could grab the door handle.  “And if you go in there like this, it will only bring you down a notch in your attempts to prove that to them.  Do yourself the biggest favor, and greet them with respect, whether or not you feel that they hurt you.  On a more important note, think about Nicolette!  You two were very good friends when you were little, I remember; when you were told that you were not to speak to her again, how did you feel?”

“A little upset,” Lucien answered stubbornly.

“Please, you would not speak to your parents for weeks!” Lumière argued.  “Now you have the chance to make up for lost time; believe me, you would be stupid not to take advantage of it.”

Lucien sighed, defeated.  He hated it when Lumière actually had a good point, and this time, Lumière was absolutely right.  If anything good came from tonight, it would be the chance to see Nicolette again.

“Very well,” Lucien growled.  “Lead on.”

Lumière nodded, satisfied with his victory before he opened the front door.  At first, the foyer was completely silent, but both men kept their eyes on the clock counting down the final seconds of peace and quiet before the Comtesse de Bontecou came to meet them.

“What on earth could have possibly kept you out so long _this_ time?” she said, her tone very much reminding them of a watchdog after it had spotted trespassers.

While Lumière began thinking fast, having not yet devised an explanation, Lucien simply handed over the package, hardly flinching under his mother’s scolding eyes.

“Bringing home yet _another_ one of your new dresses, Mother,” he said, barely suppressing a laugh when he saw Lumière breathe a subtle sigh of relief.  “What else would I be doing?”

“I never know anymore with you, Lucien,” the Comtesse answered in the process of opening the package.  “For all we know, you could be off doing charity work again.”

Lucien took the moment of distraction to look at Lumière with extreme confusion.  The valet shrugged sheepishly, mouthing his words as he replied, “It was the best I could do.”

The Comtesse, in the meantime, examined the garment, obviously very pleased with what she saw.  “Dieu, this is marvelous, surely Madame Veston’s best work yet!” she said with admiration, returning the dress to its box.  “I must send her my thanks; Nicolette will look astonishing in it.”

“Nicolette?  I thought it was for you.”

“Not this time,” she said. “We needed a present for the child, and she needed only the best that Paris has to offer.  The poor girl does not have a mother as you know, and her father does not have the slightest idea about how to make his daughter a gem.  She needs a woman’s touch, and this will certainly do the trick.  Now you boys hurry to the drawing room, and we ladies shall join you in a moment.”

Before Lucien could say anything, the Comtesse headed for the stairs again before she disappeared into the hallway of guestrooms.

“I still want to know how women do that,” Lumière muttered.

“Do what?”

“Talk our ears off and then vanish like phantoms.”

Lucien laughed.  “I think they plan every word meticulously before they speak, not intending for us to understand even after they are gone.  But she will be back, and if she finds us still standing here, she will not be kind.”

“Very true,” Lumière agreed, shuddering at the thought and following Lucien to the sitting room.

Inside, two older gentlemen rose as they entered.  Lucien unwillingly stepped forward, ready to be put on display like a prized stallion, while Lumière kept the respectable distance that his position required.

“Ah, there he is; home at last!” the Comte de Bontecou said, leading Lucien towards their company by the shoulder.  “Rodel, you remember my son, Lucien, _non_?”

Lucien put on his noble face, standing tall and proud, the normal routine.  Offering his hand, he smiled politely.  “An honor to see you again, _monsieur_ ,” he said.

Solange looked at Lucien’s hand briefly, as though debating whether he should accept it, before actually doing so.  “Likewise, of course,” he said slowly, inspecting the boy and making no attempt to hide it.  “It certainly _looks_ as though he has become the man you speak of so proudly, Armand.”

Lucien’s smile faded.  This was going to be a long night if the only way de Solange would speak to him was through his father.

“Indeed, he is,” Bontecou agreed, quite determined in his words.  “The finest son a man could ask for, a perfectly suitable match for your daughter as he always was.”

“Yes, well, we shall see about that.”

Definitely a long night, Lucien decided solemnly.  Clearly the reborn trust was not as established as he had thought, which meant tedious hours of having to prove himself in the eyes of the old comte.  It was the story of his entire life.

As he had expected, the next hour was an inquisition, his future father-in-law asking him questions about his goals in life, his habits, and his prospects, in an attempt to determine if Lucien was a responsible, steady, respectable young man who would manage his finances and estate wisely and make a good husband for Solange’s precious offspring, or just a profligate scoundrel who would fritter away the family fortune on drink and gambling, like so many of the immature wastrels passing as young noblemen today.

Finally, Lucien could stand no more.  “Would you both excuse me for a moment?” he asked, hardly waiting until his father gave him the official nod of leave before he headed to the door.  Lumière, of course, followed close behind, prepared to play the role of companion over servant.

Closing the door to a nearby sitting room, Lumière ventured to say the first word.  “All things considered, first impressions went rather well, _oui_?”  Lucien did not reply, thus allowing Lumière to continue.  “No need to worry, if you ask me.  The Comte de Solange was never a sociable or pleasant man to begin with that I remember.”

“At the risk of sounding horrifically dramatic, that alone sealed my fate to languish in misery for all eternity,” Lucien said at last.  “Having to be in that man’s company simply because they want me to marry his daughter is not something that I am looking forward to.”

“I hardly know any man who likes his in-laws,” Lumière said with a reassuring grin, pouring them both a glass of wine.  “It is the daughter you have to focus on, you know that.  Make her love you and you are set for life.”

“Easy for you to say,” Lucien replied, accepting the glass and taking a long sip.  “You can have any woman you want.”

“I know but this talk is not about me,” Lumière joked with a smirk, trying to get a laugh from his friend.  Speaking seriously again, he added, “Just remember, you and Nicolette were friends before.  At least you will have her as your wife instead of some nagging old thing that you can not stand.”

“Please, I have not seen her in years; how am I to know that she has not become her father?”

A knock on the door prevented Lumière from answering the question, and the boys turned attentively as it opened.

“Lucien?” the Comtesse called, not waiting for the men as she led a younger girl forward.  Smiling encouragingly between her son and the girl, she said, “You remember Nicolette, _oui_?”

Lucien could not help staring; Nicolette was no longer just a pretty little girl of eleven but now a beautiful young woman instead.  Wavy chocolate locks of hair framed her pleasant face, and despite her serious expression, her dark eyes still had a childlike, playful sparkle about them.  Perhaps this really would not be such a terrible night.

However, as the Comte de Solange cleared his throat impatiently, causing his daughter to curtsy quickly like a trained dog obeying its master, Lucien inwardly groaned as his momentary hope vanished.  The years may have aged her gracefully, but they had also turned her into what he disappointedly called “one of them.”

“Of course, how could I forget?” Lucien replied, bowing politely and attempting a stronger show of interest as he took her hand respectfully.  “It is an honor to see you again.”

“The honor is very much mine,” Nicolette replied quietly, about as excited as he was when he kissed her hand chastely.  “You have my gratitude for inviting my father and me to join you for dinner.”

“Speaking of which, I wonder what is taking Chef so long!” the Comtesse interrupted, in desperation to lighten the mood.  “Chanlet had the most splendid meal planned; is that not so, Lumière?  Your father unfailingly gives us the finest in the world!”

“Only the best, Madame,” Lumière agreed

“There you have it, and yet Chef takes such ungodly long hours to finish cooking it all!” she laughed, gesturing to her husband and guest.  “We should find out if he is having any trouble.”

Bontecou stared at his wife as though she had grown four extra heads.  “Us?  Check on dinner?”

“And let our lovely couple become reacquainted, yes!” she growled through her teeth.

Solange immediately scowled at the idea.  “Leave them alone with each other?” he said.  “I should certainly think not.”

“Of course not alone,” the Comtesse said dismissively.  “Lumière will be here to chaperone.”

Solange took one look at the valet, who smiled reassuringly, before he made his decision.  “I shall send Jolie in to join you,” he said to Nicolette.

“Of course, Father, as you wish.”

Only when the three elders had left did Nicolette begin to breathe evenly again, and both Lucien and Lumière watched bewildered as the seemingly prim and proper girl literally flopped onto the chaise.

“ _Dieu_ , I am so glad that is over!” she said, greatly relieved.  “I thought it would never end!”

Lucien raised an eyebrow, surprised.  “Who are you, and what happened to that girl I saw moments ago?”

Nicolette laughed harder.  “Lucien de Bontecou, when have you ever known me to be so serious as that?  Or have you forgotten after all these years?”

Lucien shook his head, at last showing a genuine smile as he moved to join her on the chaise.  “Well you have to admit, it _has_ been a long time.”

“ _Mon Dieu_ , it certainly has!” she agreed, giddy as a child on Christmas morning. 

“But by God, look at you, you have not changed a bit,” he said with a boyish smile.  “A little taller, perhaps, but surely still the same awkward little bit of a girl that I remember.”

Nicolette gasped, mockingly stung by his words, as she folded her arms teasingly.  “The same could be said for you, very much the same little boy who found fun in placing a frog in my lap at the dinner table.”

Lucien snapped his fingers.  “And smarter too, unfortunately.  I was very much hoping to relive the priceless moment tonight, but you are too quick for me!”

“Always was,” Lumière added with a smirk.

Nicolette giggled as she looked beyond Lucien.  “Once the partner in crime and always will be, I see,” she said.  “Do not think that I had forgotten about you, Lumière.”

“And may a woman never do such a thing!” Lumière chuckled, bowing respectfully.  “But it is lovely to see you again, Mademoiselle Nicolette.”

“Likewise, of course,” she replied before breaking into a teasing smirk.  “However, I have also not forgotten how completely evil the both of you were when you teamed yourselves up against me.  How can I honestly trust that history will not repeat itself?”

Lucien shook his head.  “I speak for myself when I say you can rest assuredly trust me, but I do not know about Lumière.  For all I know, he is merely putting up a front so he can plot a way to take you for himself, the charmer he is.”

“Plotting, ha!” Lumière scoffed.  “Do not listen to a word he says, _mademoiselle_ , as he is just as guilty in such accusations!”

“What could he possibly be planning against you?” Nicolette asked, amused.

Lumière frowned.  “To ruin my good reputation by making me out to be a irresponsible, inconsiderate fool!”

Nicolette winked discreetly at Lucien before rising to pat the seemingly begrudged Lumière on the shoulder comfortingly.  “Oh, do not think such things, _mon ami_ ,” she said.  “I will protect your good name, I promise!”

Lumière dropped to his knees in mock gratitude.  “You are too kind!” he cried playfully, forcing the others to laugh openly at his dramatics.  “He does not deserve a fiancée as wonderful as yourself!”

While Nicolette continued to be amused, Lucien’s laughter slowly ceased upon hearing the word “fiancée.”  Just when things were becoming friendly and comfortable, Lumière had to open his big mouth, intentionally or not.  He hardly heard the scene before him continue, when Jolie entered the room after timidly knocking on the door.

“Forgive the interruption, mademoiselle, but your father ordered me to…”

“To join in the fun, of course,” Nicolette finished for her, her laughter at last calming down.  “Jolie, come here; you must meet everyone.”  Leading the maid forward, Nicolette continued in a manner of introduction.  “This is Lumière; he is…”

“Very delighted,” Lumière interrupted, immediately reaching for Jolie’s hand to bring it to his lips.  The maid blushed profusely, but made no attempts to hide a tiny grin.

“A pleasure, _monsieur_ ,” she said, curtsying gently.

“The pleasure is all mine,” Lumière replied with a charming smile.  “Your mistress should have warned us how exquisite you were.  My weak heart can hardly stand the intense beating it must endure when such an angel steps into the room.”

“And this,” Nicolette interjected, rolling her eyes and turning Jolie to face Lucien, “is Monsieur Lucien, the Vicomte de Bontecou.”

Jolie curtsied deeper this time.  “Monsieur, it is my greatest honor.”

 _Honor, it is always an honor_ , Lucien thought, but nonetheless nodded courteously in return.

Catching the hint of discomfort, Nicolette turned to Lumière.

“Lumière, I do not believe that Jolie has been given a tour of the château,” she said.  “Would you be a gentleman - and I mean _literally_ a gentleman - and show her around, please?”

Lumière took one glance at Lucien, sighing to himself, but smiled wholeheartedly.  “But of course, mademoiselle, as you wish.”  He offered his arm to Jolie, his grin once again flashing charm and chivalry.  “Shall we?”

Jolie looked a little hesitant, not wanting to disobey the Comte de Solange, but at Nicolette’s reassuring nod, she slowly accepted Lumière’s arm to follow his lead.  Nicolette patiently waited until they were out of earshot before she rejoined Lucien on the chaise.

“I knew that would be just the thing to make him leave,” she said, attempting humor.

Lucien offered a halfhearted smile.  “Indeed, Lumière would never pass up the opportunity to show off to a pretty girl.”

An uncomfortable pause came between them before Nicolette tried again to speak.  “You were right, you know; it really has been a long time.  I do not even remember what caused the disagreement between our parents in the first place.”

“Neither do I,” Lucien agreed.  “I missed you a great deal.”

“As did I miss you.  You were my dearest friend, treating me like a member of your own family.”

Lucien shook his head, laughing weakly.  “Well, soon you truly will be,” he said, wincing as he realized how rude he must have sounded.  “Not that I do not want you to be, but…”

“It is not a comfortable situation for me either,” Nicolette replied, touching his arm to comfort him.  “You friendship has always meant so much to me, Lucien.  That alone is what helps me accept our parents’ decision, and we _must_ accept it for everyone’s sake.  You and I both know that it is our duty and responsibility to our families, and if I must have someone chosen for me…I am very happy that it is you, my dear friend.”

Lucien turned his head slightly so that she would not see him bite his lip at her words.  At that very moment, the pure resentment he had against this engagement increased tenfold upon hearing her words, and he cursed his parents and her father even more than before.  Why did it have to be Nicolette?  It would have been so much easier if it were anyone but her, a woman he cared about!  But that was all he felt for her; his heart belonged to another that no one could ever know about.

Only when he found courage and strength did Lucien looked at her again, his future bride, his dear friend.  That was all.

“You are right,” he murmured.  “Absolutely right.  My dear friend, till the very end.  I promise.”

**ooo**

Later that night at _La Fleur Noire_ , Babette roughly combed a brush through her hair before she heard a knock at her door.

“You are late!” she called, angrily, without even having to see Lucien to know that it was him.

Lucien opened the door, locking it behind him.  Walking to her seat in front of a small mirror, he placed his hands on her bared shoulders, massaging them gently as he buried a kiss into her hair.

“I know, and I am sorry,” he whispered.  “Previous commitment that I could not miss; such is the way of nobles.”

“A commitment more important than me?” she asked, pouting.

“Never, _amour_.  You wound me by even suggesting such a terrible notion.”

Babette turned in her seat to look up into his handsome eyes.  “You missed my dance, which was horrible without you here to watch,” she scolded, hints of playfulness in her exaggerations.  “I looked so foolish!  For that, I will never forgive you!”

As she returned to brushing her hair, more furiously than before, Lucien took it gently from her to take on the task himself.  Slowly, he combed her dark tresses so tenderly that the bristles caressed all the right places, causing a tingling sensation to engulf her, and Babette could not resist a sigh of delight.

“Mmm, stop that,” she fought weakly, reaching for his hand.  “I want to stay mad at you, and you know I can not do so when you fight unfairly.”

Lucien smiled as he placed the brush on her dresser, and cupped her face in his hands.  “All is fair in love and war, _chérie_.”

“All except you.”

“You would not have it any other way,” Lucien replied huskily, claiming a desperate kiss that he had hungered for all night.

His precious, mysterious Babette.  As she rose to her feet, pressing herself closely against him, Lucien enveloped her in his embrace.

He had made his choice, risky as it was.  No matter where he was or who he was with, his heart longed to be with her.  She was his heaven, his paradise, and at her side was the only place where he truly belonged.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writer's Notes and Memories:  
> ~ There he is! Lumière came out to play. Here you see the early pieces being set for the next story. But more on that when it rolls around.  
> ~ Nicolette is such a sweetheart. I wanted to change things up and not have the other woman be someone you could easily hate. I wanted her to be a friend, a fellow noble who realizes that this is her duty and the way of her world. At the very least, if she has to be in an arranged marriage, it is to her best friend.  
> ...which of course kind of puts Lucien in a tough position. :)


	11. Deal with a Devil

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Babette © Disney  
> All Original Characters © myself

The sun had finally begun to peek over the horizon one morning as Babette sat up in her bed, tired yet dizzily blissful.  On the side table next to her bed, she found a small note waiting for her.  Although she could not read it, she discovered that the ink had not completely dried; Lucien must have presumably left a few minutes before she woke up.  But even that realization could not upset her now.  She had his romantic farewell on paper, and once Odette read it to her later, it would forever be engraved in her memory.

Babette could not help laughing at herself for how giddy she had felt since Lucien became her lover.  Cliché as it sounded, he was her very dream come true, like a prince out of a child’s fairytale that one could only wish for.  Yes, he would bring her gifts and spoil her with attention like the men before him, but there was so much more to him than that.  No other man had such an emotional hold on her before or made her feel weak in the knees when he walked into the room.  For once in her life, she was truly, completely happy, and with a girlish smile, she cheerfully rested back into place.  It was still early in the morning, too early to get out of bed, which left her with plenty of time to think of her beloved. 

For a short while, Babette was content to lie there, remembering their previous night while imagining how glorious the next would be.  Unfortunately, it did not last as long as she would have hoped; living at _La Fleur Noire_ was not as quiet or private as a true home would be.  The paper thin walls did not cover the sounds of agonizing illness that were coming from Brielle’s room a few doors down the hall, and Babette sat up alertly upon hearing her friend in pain.  Rising again to dress in a simple camisole and pantalets, she immediately rushed to Brielle’s side.

The poor thing was obviously hurting something terrible, and one look at the chamber pot beside the bed answered any unspoken questions for detail.  With a sigh, Babette curled up next to Brielle, caressing her back, maternal and soothing.

“No wonder you finally sent Claude away last night,” Babette whispered gently. 

A few months earlier, D’Araignée had at last demanded Brielle begin dancing, very much against the girl’s will.  More recently, she had captured the attention of her first admirer, Claude, the son of a local shopkeeper.  Although shy, Brielle was quite taken with the young man, who showered her constantly with flattery and tiny trinkets, the usual routine.  Within a week of the “love affair,” as the girls playfully called it, she had allowed him access to her room, despite any discomfort. 

Always the protective one when it came to her young friend, Babette thought it was far too soon at first, considering that she herself had not taken on her first lover until long after she began dancing.  But after much consideration, she came to accept the idea.  After all, Babette thought with an amused grin, maybe it would be the best cure for Brielle’s intense shyness, and sure enough, Brielle was much less timid after her first night of passion.  It was just what she needed.

Or so she had thought until now.  Lately, every morning Babette would find Brielle in her room, sick to her stomach.  Maybe it had been too soon; maybe it was too much for her.

“Obviously you had quite a morning,” Babette said lightly, trying to keep the mood in high spirits.  “How do you feel now?”

“How do I look?” Brielle groaned, wincing as she swallowed, tasting the awful effects of her sickness.

Babette smiled gently.  “Do you want the truth?”

Brielle did not suppress a tiny grin.  “Horrible, _oui_?  There is the answer to your question.”

“I do not doubt that,” Babette agreed, helping Brielle sit up a bit.  Taking the ribbon from her own hair, she used it to tie back Brielle’s as she added, “I will cover for you tonight; you are in no condition to dance.”

“No,” Brielle argued.  “I will be better later, really; I always am.  Not even this is worth hearing Madame’s complaints about how I am ‘not worth having around if I don’t earn my keep properly.’  If I take a night off, she will be unbearable to live with.”

Babette sighed.  “But the sicker you are, the worse she will be,” she emphasized.  “Your main concern should be to get well as soon as possible.  It is Saturday; Madame will be gone all day, as usual.  You can see a doctor, find out what is wrong, and be back long before she returns.”

Brielle rubbed her stomach as though the simple action itself was the miracle cure.  “It…would be nice to feel good again.”

“You think so?” Babette sarcastically asked with a playful laugh, satisfied to see Brielle genuinely smile at her teasing.  Serious once more, Babette gave her friend a gentle hug, resting Brielle in place again before she stood.  Stroking the girl’s hair tenderly, Babette ordered gently, “Get some sleep now; everything will be all right.”

 **ooo**

The sound of applause would never grow old, and Babette, as always, reveled in the elation of a performance well done as she closed the curtain behind her.  Returning to the dressing room, however, the feeling vanished when she heard someone crying, and she found Brielle sitting in front of a mirror, her face hidden in folded arms.

Pulling a chair next to Brielle, Babette gently touched her friend’s shoulder, but retracted it immediately when Brielle startled.

“I’m all right,” Brielle snapped quickly before Babette could ask the inevitable question.  Wiping her eyes, she repeated.  “I’m all right, really.”

“You are such a terrible liar,” Babette replied, a hint of a laugh in her voice to ease the situation, even if for a moment.  Lifting Brielle’s face gently by the chin, she continued calmly, “You are all right, yet you are also sick to your stomach every morning and crying whenever you find a free moment.  Are you going to tell me the truth now or not?”

Not even on the night of Brielle’s debut had the girl resembled a deer at a hunter’s mercy.  Her face had paled, white as a sheet, and her eyes were clouded with anxiety and fright.  She attempted to speak a number of times, but the only words that Babette deemed decently understandable were “Not here.”

Babette looked at her, puzzled, but whatever it took to make Brielle comfortable enough to talk, Babette would agree to it.  Gently, she took Brielle’s hand and led her to the door.  After deciding that the coast was clear upon taking a cautious glance into the hallway, the pair made their way to a private backroom where most of the kitchen supplies were kept.  No one ever came this far down the hall unless they were ordered to fetch something or other, and whatever Brielle had to say, it would be a secret kept safe for eternity in there.

Sitting down with Brielle behind a shelf of various mugs, glasses, and pitchers, Babette held her hand comfortingly in both of her own.

“Now tell me what happened,” she said encouragingly.  “What did the doctor say?  What is wrong?”

“Wrong is not a strong enough word,” Brielle said, her voice shaking as tears once again began rolling down her cheeks.

“Brielle, _what_ did he _say_?” Babette urged.

Brielle tried desperately to keep her emotions under control; she bit her lip so hard that she swore it had begun to bleed.  But she could not hold back any longer, breaking down into hysterical fits of sobbing.  Babette must have held her for quite some time before Brielle found the courage to speak the truth.

“He…sent me to a midwife when he was done with the examination,” she explained.  “Said I would be better off there to find out what was the matter.  So I did.”

“And?”

Looking up into her friend’s eyes, Brielle whispered, ”Babette…I-I’m having…a baby.”

Babette felt her blood run cold in horror.  Normally, those few words were supposed to bring great joy to a woman’s life as well as to those around her.  They were meant to bring loved ones together in a celebration of new life.  But those precious moments were only given to an average woman, and as everyone knew, Fleurettes were far from average women.  When a Fleurette was found with child, she might as well be dead.

Babette knew that many of the girls had been in the same situation before, considering the number of lovers they had taken to their rooms, but what precisely D’Araignée had forced them to do was unknown to her.  In Babette’s early days at the dance hall, there was one girl – she could not remember her name – who had found out she was expecting, one of D’Araignée’s favored girls even.  But only days after the secret spread amongst the others, the girl was nowhere to be found. 

What had happened to her, Babette was never told.  All she knew was that once a child was involved, apparently no one was safe from D’Araignée’s wrath.  God help her, she would not let the same thing happen to Brielle.

“Does…anyone else know besides me?” she asked slowly.  “Does Claude know?”

“Of course not,” Brielle replied.  “How could he if I only found out today?  But no one can know!  Babette, please, don’t tell anyone!”

“Hush!” Babette cried, nodding to the door.  “Everyone _will_ know if you do not keep it down, and truth be told, petite, in another two months, you will not be able to hide it anymore.”

Brielle hid her face in her hands.  “ _Dieu_ , what am I going to do?  What will Madame do with me?”

Babette shook her head.  “Absolutely nothing, because we will fix this.”

“How?”

Babette sighed, wanting to kick herself.  It was one thing to be reassuring; it was another thing to be reassuring when you did not have a plan.  “I do not know, but we will,” she said, hugging her friend tightly.  “Whatever it is, nothing is going to happen to you, I swear.”

The poor girl in return clutched onto her as if Babette was the source of her salvation.  Her grip tightened, however, as they heard D’Araignée in the hallway.

“Brielle!” she barked.  “Where are you, you clumsy wretch?  Get out there on that floor before I find you and throw you out there myself!”

Brielle nervously trembled as she tried to stand, but Babette stopped her.

“Listen to me,” she said firmly.  “Stay here, and do not move or make any sound.  I will cover for you; you are in no condition to face Madame or be out on the floor.  When I get back, we will think of a plan.  I will only be a few minutes; just stay here and wait for me.”

“Brielle!  God help you if I catch you slacking about back here!”

Babette jumped to her feet, squeezing Brielle’s hand comfortingly and offering a smile before she ran for the door.  All there was left for Brielle to do was pull her knees up to her chest and wait.

If only she was as alone as she thought she was.  When she lifted her head to wipe her eyes dry, Brielle gasped, backing away as she found Fifi kneeling down next to her.

“What are you doing back here, _petite_?” Fifi asked.  “Did Madame order you to bring back some mugs as well?”

“I-I’m sorry!” Brielle responded immediately.  “I d-didn’t know that anyone w-was back here!”

“Shh, it is all right, relax; no harm done,” Fifi murmured, with uncharacteristic sweetness.  “All of us need some time away, but not all find the nerve to ask Madame for it.”

Brielle looked at her, uncertainly.  “I am…not feeling well enough to dance tonight.”

Fifi laughed gently.  “Indeed, having a baby will do that to you.”

Brielle’s eyes widened fretfully.  “Y-you heard that?”

“Loud and clear,” Fifi said quietly.  “And I pity you, poor thing.  There is no crime worse around here than being found with child.  Madame will send you right out into the cold, lonely streets if she finds out.”

Brielle grasped onto Fifi’s arm desperately.  “Oh _Dieu_ , Fifi please no!” she cried, tears flowing freely.  “Please!  I will do anything you want; name it and I will do it!  Please, just don’t tell her!  _Please!_ ”

Fifi clamped her hand over Brielle’s mouth.  “Shut up, you idiot!” she hissed.  “I swear, no one will have to tell her if you do not keep quiet!  You will give yourself away.”  When Brielle had quieted, Fifi added, her harsh tone calming, “And then how will I be able to help you?”

Brielle furrowed her brow in confusion.  “What did you say?”

Fifi smiled.  “I said, I am going to help you.”

“Why?” Brielle blurted out, not even realizing what she had said until she said it.  “I mean, why would you want to help me?”

“Because I am the only one who can,” Fifi replied matter-of-factly.  “As kind a friend as she is, Babette is the last person who will know how to take care of this.”

“But Babette said she could help,” Brielle said uncertainly.

“The best way she could help is to go with you to the angel maker.  You don’t want to go alone, do you?”

“The what?”

Fifi looked around to be sure no one was nearby.  “The angel maker, or so she is known only to those who need her,” she said conspiratorially.  “A midwife who lives just outside of Paris, not too far from here.  She will help you get rid of the baby and save your neck.”

“Wait,” Brielle said cautiously.  “What do you mean ‘get rid of the baby’?”

“Surely you did not expect to go through with having it?”

“No, but…”

“Then this is the only way,” Fifi interrupted.  “You have to end this now before you start to show.  By then, it will be too late.  D’Araignée will throw you out and you will have no place to live.”

“But…you mean…it must be killed?”

Fifi heaved a great sigh, patting the girl’s shoulder.  “It is a hard price to pay, I know, but it is either the child…or you.  You will not survive one day out there in the streets, and if you die, the child will too.  Either way, the baby is doomed; best to put it out of its misery now, _oui_?”

Brielle felt as though her heart had sunk into the depths of her stomach, which began turning even more at the idea of what Fifi was suggesting.  Kill an innocent child who had absolutely no choice in the matter?  A child who never asked to be conceived?  But on the other hand…it did make sense, in a sickening way.  She could not take care of a baby on her own, especially if she had nowhere to go.  No matter what she chose to do, the baby would not survive.  Doing away with it now…it almost seemed fair.

Taking a deep breath, Brielle asked, “What must I do?”

Fifi smiled innocently.  “Leave everything to me.  I will personally go to the angel maker myself to arrange everything for you.  The minute I have every bit of information, you will be the first to know.”

When Fifi held out her hand, Brielle considered it for a moment before taking it into her own in agreement.  Perhaps Fifi did have a heart after all.

“ _Très bien_ ,” Fifi said with a nod.  “You are doing the right thing, _ma petite_ , I promise.”

And with those parting words, Fifi rose from the floor, mugs in hand, and made her way to the door…only to come face to face with Babette, who overheard everything.

“What is it going to take to keep you silent?” Babette asked darkly, staring her rival down threateningly.

Fifi shrugged casually.  “Absolutely nothing; I meant exactly what I said.”

“She does not need any ‘help’ that you can give her.”

Fifi smirked.  “What did _you_ have in mind then?  How would wise Saint Babette be able to help her?”

Babette’s expression grew more and more deadly.  “At least my first concern would be that she is all right in the end.”

“That is all well and good, but I ask again: _what_ did you plan to do?”  When Babette fell silent, Fifi sneered, “Just as I thought, nothing at all.  Face it, whether we like the idea or not, I am the only one who knows what to do.  Brielle needs me; _you_ need me.  If I were you, I would just be the security blanket, stay at her side, and let me handle everything.  Do we understand each other?”

Babette had to force herself to swallow an awful taste in her mouth at the thought of having to rely on this woman.  Fifi was right; she hated the idea, but she had no choice but to trust her.  It was the only way to help Brielle.

“ _Oui_ , I understand,” Babette agreed weakly, but when Fifi began to walk away, she gripped her arm tightly, almost causing the mugs to fall.  “But I swear, if anything happens to Brielle, if Madame finds out, I will personally see to your death sentence myself.”

Fifi shoved her hand away, but the smirk remained.  “You have my word; nothing will happen to Brielle, I assure you.”

Babette lowered her head in defeat after Fifi had disappeared down the hall.  Pride would be suppressed; it had to be, for Brielle’s sake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> ma petite - my little one


	12. For the Best

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Babette © Disney  
> All Original Characters © myself

Although it was summer, there was a chill in the air at night after the sun went down.  Whether it was that fact or the uneasy, cautious feeling a person gets from living on the outskirts of Paris that made her long for sleep, Madame LaCharde – also known as the angel maker – would never know, nor did she care.  Pulling her cloak closer around her, all she cared about was crawling into bed to find a bit of peace after a long day.

Hence why it did not please her to see a visitor waiting on her doorstep.

“Who’s there?” she called impatiently.  “What do you want?”

When the visitor stepped forward and lowered her hood to reveal that it was Fifi, LaCharde groaned.

“Surprise, surprise,” she whined sarcastically.

Fifi smirked smugly.  “Missed me, have you?”

“Whichever noble’s bastard that you have saddled yourself with can wait until morning,” LaCharde replied, the sarcasm still very present.  “I am in no mood to deal with you tonight.” 

“Not with me, but how about this?” Fifi asked, dangling a money purse in front of the woman’s nose. 

LaCharde eyed it greedily for a long, thoughtful moment before she snatched it from Fifi’s hand.  Giving it a good shake, she sneered, “Huh, fifty francs or so, I’d wager.  You must have screwed around fairly well this week to afford this much.”

“Call that half of what I will give you in return for a favor,” Fifi answered with casual promise.

LaCharde sighed, exasperated.  “This had better be worth my time,” she warned, opening her door and gesturing Fifi to follow her.

Once inside the tiny house, LaCharde nodded to a chair in a silent invitation to sit.  “I knew I should have convinced your mother to do away with you,” she growled, taking the opposite chair after grabbing two bottles of cheap wine from the kitchen.  “Perhaps then I would be able to get some sleep.”

“Perhaps, yes, but then you would not have most of your money, considering all that I have done for you,” Fifi reminded her, taking one of the bottles for herself.  “Not only my own payments but also the others that I have sent.”

LaCharde took the first long drink of wine, hardly flinching at the strong aftertaste.  “So which is it this time?” she asked.

“The second choice.”

“Another referral, good girl!” LaCharde snickered.  “What is the sob story?”

“One of the younger brats,” Fifi said, laughing, sickeningly humored at the thought.  “Finally decides to prove herself a true Fleurette by taking a lover and ruins everything by getting pregnant.”

LaCharde only responded after she took another swig of wine.  “And…what did she do to you?  You never send anyone to me otherwise.”

Fifi laughed harder and raised her bottle as if making a proud toast.  “She did not do anything to me at all.”

LaCharde raised an eyebrow.  “Then you are actually helping the girl?  No strings attached?  I refuse to believe it.”

Fifi smirked maliciously, finishing off more than half of her bottle in one drink.  “I said _she_ did not do anything to me, and all I need you to do is get rid of the baby.  The rest of my plan will slowly play out over time.  For now, let’s just say, all of us involved will get what we deserve in the end.  You have my word on that.”

**ooo**

Babette thanked the heavens that Lucien was not able to visit the following week.  She never wanted him to see her so stressed and anxious as she was that next night in the dressing room.  Between the need to keep Brielle’s delicate situation a secret and wondering why Fifi had gone out of her way to help, Babette’s nerves were being pushed to their limits.  Only Odette and Aubrey noticed the sudden change in her normally vivacious personality.

In the privacy of the dressing room, Odette occasionally glanced at Babette while both girls as well as Aubrey went about fixing their hair.

“You have been very quiet,” Odette murmured.  “Not talking much at all for an entire week.”

“ _Oui_ , normally we have too much trouble trying to shut her up,” Aubrey added, rather curtly, even for her.

Babette shrugged, staying silent as much as it hurt her to do so.  These girls were her best friends!  She could go to them whenever a problem arose, whenever there was something incredibly wrong, and they would be there for her, but not this time.  As much as it killed her, she could not break her promise to Brielle.

After another unbearable pause, Aubrey pinned her hair in place, and slowly she turned on Babette, leaning against an open spot on the table casually.

“I guess we are just waiting for the truth,” she said slowly.

“There is no truth that needs to be told,” Babette answered calmly.  “Sometimes it is best to rest your voice, and I am doing that now.”

“Liar.”

“Aubrey,” Odette said, her tone that of a warning.  “Don’t.”

Babette held her hand high for silence before she turned to face Aubrey at the accusation.  “There is _nothing_ for us to talk about.”

Without hesitation, Babette headed for the door to avoid confrontation, but Aubrey’s mouth was faster than her feet.

“And yet you can tell Fifi anything and everything?”

Babette halted in place, but did not turn around.  “That is not true.”

“When it comes to you lately, I don’t think I would be able to tell the difference between truth and lies,” Aubrey countered.

As Babette turned, gritting her teeth, Odette tried again to end the tension.

“Aubrey, come on, that is enough,” she said firmly.  “Even you do not talk about everything that is bothering you; just let it go.”

“I won’t ignore a question of loyalty!” Aubrey snapped.

Babette immediately came towards them at that.  “What exactly are you saying?” she asked.

Aubrey stood tall, eye-to-eye with her, threateningly.  “Do me a favor, little girl,” she growled.  “When you _do_ decide what is wrong, do not come looking for us.  You know where Fifi is; you can go to her.”

“Well, maybe I will,” Babette snarled.  “What did you call this?  A question of loyalty?”  She stopped for a moment to laugh tauntingly.  “Loyalty indeed!  A supposed friend goes only by what she sees when deciding what to believe!”

“Funny then, how I try to find out the truth, and yet you won’t tell me!” Aubrey retorted.  “How am I supposed to know what to believe?”

“It is called trust!”

“And honesty!!”

“Stop it!” Odette shouted, shoving her way in between them to prevent what she knew would follow words.  “Both of you!  Whatever is going on, it is getting to your heads, and driving you crazy!”  To Babette, she said, “When you are ready to talk, I know you will.  For now, we have to drop it and leave it alone.”

Before she could say anything to Aubrey, the blonde shoved her way passed the both of them.  “I’ll leave it alone, all right!” she called.  “Just don’t come crawling to me when Fifi turns on you!  You won’t get any of my sympathy!”

Aubrey shoved angrily at the door as she stormed out, nearly hitting Fifi, who was standing right outside.

“ _Dieu_ , what is the problem _now_ with her?” Fifi said, miffed.  “She is not worth the trouble she causes!  Madame should have thrown her out long ago.”

“I could say the same for you,” Odette muttered, earning her a dirty look from Fifi.

Babette closed her eyes, wanting to die right where she stood.  “What is it now?”

Fifi glanced haughtily at Odette before she replied.  “Do you really think it is a good idea to talk around… _some_ people?”

Babette glared at her, but then looked to Odette, trying to find words to make up for everything.  Odette merely nodded before returning to the hair fixing.

Turning back to Fifi, Babette could only follow unwillingly as they made their way to a private room.

“Later tonight, half past ten,” Fifi reported.  “It is the only time that Madame LaCharde can see her.”

Babette’s eyes widened, very much in a panic.  “What do you mean ‘later tonight’?  You expect her to just walk in there and be ready to get rid of her baby so easily?”

“It can not be helped!” Fifi argued.  “It is tonight or not at all!”

“When exactly did you plan on telling me this?”

“I found out just now myself!  Sorry, but time was never LaCharde’s forte!”

Babette sighed, angry and frustrated as she paced the small length of the room.  “This is our busiest night!  D’Araignée is going to have my head and throw Brielle out, I swear!”

“Will you relax?” Fifi cried, gripping Babette by the shoulders.  “Did I not promise that I would handle everything?  That includes everything _here_ as well!  Leave D’Araignée to me; she will not know a thing!  I will cover for both of you!  Your only concern right now is going with Brielle and staying with her until it is all over!”

Babette took a deep breath.  “You…are right,” she agreed, hating to admit it.  “Get Brielle through this; that is all I have to do.”

Fifi nodded, walking to the door to check a nearby clock.  “You do not have much time,” she warned.  “Go get ready to leave; Brielle is already doing so.  A carriage is waiting outside, around the back; the driver knows where to go.”

“ _Oui_ , get ready,” Babette repeated as she walked to the door, but stopped when she reached it.  Turning back to Fifi, she gathered all of her strength to sincerely add, “Fifi?  _Merci_ …for everything, I mean it.”

“ _De rien_ ,” Fifi replied sweetly, waiting until Babette left before breaking into a vicious smirk.  “I only want to make sure everything works out perfectly.”

**ooo**

First the carriage rattling down the dark roads, and now a small house that looked like something out of a ghost story.  Maybe it was the frightening idea of what Brielle was about to go through, but both she and Babette shivered as they walked up the creaky small steps to Madame LaCharde’s home.  As Brielle held her one hand in both of her own, Babette took a deep breath and knocked on the door.  The intimidating figure of an older woman completed the haunting scene, enough for Brielle’s grip to tighten and nearly cut off Babette’s circulation.

“Madame LaCharde?” Babette asked, coming to her senses after a fearful pause.  The woman nodded.  “Fifi sent us to…”

“I know,” LaCharde interrupted, stepping aside to gesture the girls inside as she led them up another stairwell.

“Now which of you is the proud mother?” LaCharde inquired with a chuckle.  One look at the cowering Brielle once they reached the top gave her the confirmation. “Well that answers the question, oui?” she snickered, opening a door.  “Please wait in here, and I will be right with you.”

Babette nodded with a quiet “ _Merci_ ,” before LaCharde shut the door.  Brielle was stiff as a rod as she gazed around the unsettling room.  A number of towels, a pitcher and basin sat on the tiny chest of drawers on one side of the room, and an awfully uncomfortable looking bed was set against the opposite wall.  Overall simple, yet very eerie.

“Well, it certainly is…cozy,” Babette offered, attempting to be lighthearted for Brielle’s sake.

Brielle did not even seem to hear her, and Babette was silent as she watched her friend slowly walk to the small bed.  Brielle sat down cautiously, as though the mattress would collapse underneath her, and absently ran her hands over the sheets.  As expected, Babette immediately saw the tears start welling up in her eyes, and she raced to Brielle’s side, holding her close.

“I didn’t mean for this to happen!” Brielle cried.  “There has to be another way!”

“Hush now, _petite_ ,” Babette comforted, soothingly rubbing her back.  “I wish there was, but there is none.”

“I can make it work!  I don’t want to be a murderer!”

“Stop talking like that,” Babette ordered firmly, but gently.  “You are only doing what is best for you and the baby.”

Brielle shook her head, burying her face on Babette’s shoulder.  “I didn’t mean it, really; never thought this would happen!”

Babette tightened her hold.  “None of us ever do,” she murmured.  “But you only have one choice now, and for the baby’s sake, and yours, it is the best one.”

Brielle looked up at her, her eyes frightened and innocent, so much that Babette felt her own tears coming on.  Brielle was just as much a child as the baby they were here to rid her of; it was so unfair for her to endure any of this.

“Babette, don’t leave me, please,” she said pleadingly.  “Hold my hand, and don’t leave me.  I can’t do this alone!”

“I am not going anywhere,” Babette promised with a smile.  “You are my best friend, and I will be here for you.  I swear, I will not leave your side.”

LaCharde opened the door a moment later, a steaming cup in her hand.

“How incredibly touching,” she sneered.  “Well you two are going to stick together for a long time; the process should be done by tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow!?” Babette cried as Brielle’s sobs came harder.  “An entire day!?”

“Very good, _mademoiselle_!” LaCharde replied sarcastically.  “A day, an entire twenty-four hours, once she drinks this.”  She handed Brielle the cup, which contained a foul smelling, light colored tea.  “Her body will do the rest.”

“We can not be here for a whole day!” Babette argued.  “It is hard enough to be here for a little while!  The girl is terrified!”

LaCharde did not even flinch.  “I _could_ do it in a little while,” she said.  “I will have to fetch the old corkscrew, and it could be done in a matter of minutes.  The chances of her surviving that, however, are not likely.  Now which do you prefer?”

Babette closed her eyes, and nodded in agreement.  “ _Très bien_ , I understand.”

“I thought you would,” LaCharde replied, exasperated.  Why could they never understand that less arguing made things happen faster?  Walking to the door, she concluded.  “Now drink up, and I will check in later on.  _Salud_!”

Babette wanted to wring her neck for that last comment.  The nerve, as if this entire procedure was a joke!  But it would not do any good to upset Brielle any more than she already was.  Thus, returning to the bed, Babette sat down with a sigh, before she took her friend’s hand.

“Go on, I will be right here,” she said gently.

Brielle trembled, tears still flowing, as she brought the cup to her lips and swallowed the awful concoction quickly.  It earned her a horrible coughing fit, but the fit was better than having to sip the tea drop by drop.  Placing the cup aside, she curled up in Babette’s arms, both girls only doing what they could now: wait and pray.

**ooo**

Babette would never forget that horrendous night. She couldn't bear to see her friend in such agony, but there was nothing she could do to ease her pain. Finally, the following night arrived, and the physical ordeal was over, although the emotional scars would linger for a lifetime.

The only help she received from LaCharde was getting another carriage.  The chore of having to get Brielle down the stairs was entirely in Babette’s hands, and she cursed herself for not being stronger.  Brielle was so weak and helpless, and it took all of Babette’s strength to hold her up.  Thankfully, they were blessed with a kind driver, who carried Brielle from the doorstep to the carriage itself and lifted her inside once Babette was seated in place to hold her comfortably.  When they arrived at _La Fleur Noire_ , Babette gave him an extra few francs for his help before taking on the grueling challenge of getting her upstairs without being caught.

_So far, so good_ , Babette thought, counting their blessings to this point.  The performances sounded to be well underway, meaning no one would be near the back stairwell, and sure enough, with a lot of effort, she succeeded in getting Brielle into her room.

Quickly and quietly, Babette barely managed to change her into a light camisole and pantalets, grimacing as she gathered the bloodied clothes.  Resting Brielle comfortably into bed, Babette hid them as best she could until later when she could hopefully get everything cleaned before she returned to Brielle’s side.

Brushing the girl’s unruly hair away from her face, Babette whispered, “How are you feeling?”

Brielle’s eyes were practically glazed over as she weakly looked up at her, and then shook her head.

“Stupid question, I know,” Babette replied.  “Just sleep for now, _petite_ ; you deserve it.  I will be back to see you later.”

Brielle was all too willing to obey as she fell asleep, her normally sweet face marred with an intense look of pain.  After tucking a blanket around her, Babette headed to her own room to change and made her way downstairs.  She breathed a sigh of relief that no one had come upon her or Brielle. But her streak of good luck was about to end.

Babette hardly had any time to process what had happened as she was literally dragged away from the stairwell.  But when she understood, she found herself looking into the terrifying gaze of D’Araignée.

“At last decided that we were worthy of your valuable time, have you?”

Foolishly not thinking, Babette tore her arm away, which only earned her a slap and D’Araignée gripping it again, tighter.

“What are you talking about?” Babette asked, slightly cowering on instinct.

“Do not play stupid with me, you deceitful little slut!” D’Araignée hissed.

Babette struggled as D’Araignée pulled her towards the back office.  That room had always been the one place that every Fleurette feared being sent to…but when she saw Fifi, sitting in a chair and smirking nastily at her, that was when the true fear struck her.

Looking between D’Araignée and Fifi, Babette knew she was doomed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> De rien - You're welcome
> 
> Writer's Notes and Memories:  
> ~ This was the chapter that knocked Fifi up into the same list as Adrien.  
> ~ On a serious note, this one was tough to write. There wasn't much in terms of research for how to properly handle the procedure with Brielle. Most options that were suggested by a writing group online would kill her, and I didn't want to do that. Then I believe someone else brought up the herbal method. So the story was changed some to accommodate, mostly in terms of timing.  
> Brielle is so sweet though; it was difficult to put her through that. A writer is a performer with a pen or keyboard. I'm also one of those who empathizes with characters, especially ones of my own creation. This one really wasn't easy at all.


	13. Sacrifice and Revelation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Babette © Disney  
> All Original Characters © myself

The frightening sense of doom did not ease within Babette, and she was certain that it never would as long as she was in this room.  Dealing with either Fifi or D’Araignée was one matter; facing the both of them at the same time was an entirely different, and dangerous situation.  Now she knew how a condemned criminal felt awaiting the dreaded sentence.

“You had better start explaining yourself,” D’Araignée warned, sitting tall behind her desk.  “Where were you last night?”

Babette swallowed nervously, shaking her head.  “I do not know what you are talking about.”

D’Araignée snorted a mocking laugh.  “Surely you can do better than that.”

Babette thought quickly.  How much did D’Araignée know exactly? 

“Brielle was not feeling well – “

“I am aware of that, but I did not ask about her,” D’Araignée interrupted sharply.

Babette breathed a subtle sigh of relief; at least Fifi had kept that much secret.

“But I was only taking care of her, keeping her company,” she replied.

D’Araignée rubbed her temple, as though on the verge of a headache.  “That was your _second_ chance,” she growled, her patience dropping rapidly.  “Now tell me the _truth_.”

“She will not admit to it, Madame!” Fifi cried accusingly.  “I told you she wouldn’t!”

Babette stared at her furiously.  She was trapped, and she knew it too well.  Trusting Fifi had been a mistake since the very beginning, and one look into her vicious eyes, seeing her loving every minute of this despite the righteous act she was putting on for D’Araignée, only made Babette feel worse.

“She told me to cover for her last night so she could sneak off with a man, just as I said,” Fifi added, staring her rival straight in the eyes, daring her to disagree and risk Brielle’s safety for her own.  Babette only remained silent.

“That’s enough from you!” D’Araignée shouted, her temper officially lost.  “Babette, is this the truth or not?”

Babette closed her eyes tightly, thinking only of Brielle.  “ _Oui_ , Madame,” she muttered quietly.  “Every word.”

D’Araignée rose from her chair, glaring at Babette angrily, yet with an air of calculation as well.

“You have always caused more trouble than you are worth,” she said.  “This is inexcusable, too much so to get away with your usual slap on the wrist.  You know that your first duty is to this dance hall, to _me_ , above all else, the one that took you in, gave you a home when no one else wanted you, not even your own father.  You decided to ignore that duty and respect, because your own personal affair was much more important.

“While you were out on your little fling with a fool who would not remember your name in the morning, many more men were here to see you, and were growing rather angry when we could not find you.  The very men who pay money to keep you alive were not nearly as worthy of your time apparently.  If Fifi was not here to take your place, the majority of them would have left, taking their money with them.  As far as I am concerned, that is more than enough reason to throw you out here and now.”

Babette nodded solemnly.  “Understandably so, Madame; I was wrong and I deserve to be dismissed.”

“However,” D’Araignée continued, “despite yesterday’s mishap, they still want you.  If I were to get rid of you, we would lose many of our patrons, including the Vicomte de Bontecou.”

Fifi hastily came forward at the sound of her plan possibly backfiring.  “Madame, surely one or two men leaving would not make too much of a difference!”

“Hold your tongue!” D’Araignée shouted, and for the first time, Babette saw Fifi cower and back away from a fight.  “One man with as much money as the Vicomte can greatly hurt us if we lose him, not to mention all of the others combined.  You are no longer enough on your own; therefore, for the sake of _La Fleur Noire_ , my hands are tied.  It is too risky to get rid of her altogether, and far too easy a punishment as well.”  Turning to Babette, she concluded, “You have disgraced me and this hall, and I will gladly return such a favor.  For two months, you will go on first in the evening, then work on serving duties with no pay.  You will work to earn your keep.  No work means no reason to keep you here.  Defy me again, and I will not be so generous.  Is that understood?”

Babette nodded, wounded.  The greatest insult to any high standing Fleurette was to perform first in the evening.  There were hardly any patrons in the dance hall then.  It was normally the time that D’Araignée had the newest girls go on to let them grow accustomed to the atmosphere, leaving the experienced girls to perform later when there were more paying customers to be entertained.  Babette had worked long and hard to get the coveted final slot of the evening: she was the star performance, the main attraction.  A Fleurette would give her right arm and leg to be on the floor during that time, _her_ time.  But if that is what it would take for both Brielle and herself to stay at the dance hall, it was worth it.

Satisfied with her decision, D’Araignée returned to her desk again before she said to Fifi, “Find suitable attire; you will be taking her place.”

Fifi, who had begun sulking, immediately perked up at D’Araignée’s words.  “Of course, Madame, _merci_.”

D’Araignée nodded.  “Telling me the truth deserves to be rewarded.  But hurry, you do not have much time before you go on.  Both of you, leave me!”

Once both girls had left, the door closed securely behind them, Fifi began to make her way to the dressing rooms, but Babette gripped her arm, forcing her to stop.  Fifi hardly flinched, smirking victoriously.

“There is nothing for you to say anymore,” she sneered.  “I warned you long ago: you steal from me, you will pay the price.  You chose to ignore me.”

“But Brielle did nothing to you,” Babette snapped quietly.

Fifi shrugged.  “No, but would you rather not have ended it all, and let Madame know what really happened?  I could go in there now and tell her while you go wish Brielle farewell if that is what you want.”

Babette gritted her teeth, trying desperately not to say something that she would regret.  One wrong word, and she did not doubt that it would be the end of Brielle.  “Damn you,” she growled.  “Damn you to hell.”

Fifi laughed haughtily.  “Such daring words from a _serving wench_ to a Fleurette.”  Tauntingly, she patted Babette on the head as though she were a child.  “I believe you have some customers to wait on, and Madame will not be happy if you keep them waiting for their drinks, will she?  Best to not upset her more.”

And with those parting shots, she continued on her way to the dressing room, leaving Babette to begin the horrible two months of sacrificial punishment.

**ooo**

As Babette expected, word of her demotion spread like a wild fire.  _Fifi must have made sure of that_ , she thought angrily as she walked around the room on serving duty, avoiding the stares of the girls and patrons alike when they whispered and laughed amongst themselves.  Worse than that was having no one to turn to for comfort.  Aubrey still would not give her a second glance, and Odette would not make the first move to talk.  Life was officially even more miserable than it was in the very beginning.

Thankfully, Babette was able to find every good reason and excuse to see Brielle, the highlight of her day.  With the girl still recovering, Babette was able to bring her everything she needed, using the time to rest and visit with her friend.

“Well, you certainly _look_ better,” Babette said one afternoon, kicking the door shut as she carried a bowl of soup over and placed it on a side table.  “The question is do you _feel_ better?”

Brielle winced at the sight of yet more soup.

“I will when I see less of that,” she said with a weak smile.

Babette laughed, pulling a chair close and sitting down.  “Prove that your strength is back and I will stop bringing it for you altogether,” she replied.  “It would be nice to see you downstairs again and have some company full time.”

Brielle’s smile faded.  The news had not remained a secret kept only by those in the main room.  “You have no idea how sorry I am,” she murmured guiltily.  “I never should have trusted her; the last thing I wanted was for you to get in trouble.”

“I know, it is not your fault,” Babette reassured her, gently yet firmly.  “It is only for a little while, and more importantly, you are safe and sound with nothing to worry about.”

Brielle nodded, but Babette could tell that the answer did not mollify her.

“Trust me, _petite_ ,” she added.  “Every moment for the next two months will be well worth it if it means you can stay here.  I would rather die than watch my best friend be thrown out.”

Before they could say anymore, D’Araignée began shouting for Babette from the stairwell.

“I think she is catching onto our visits,” she said, rolling her eyes as she rose from the chair and patting Brielle’s hand.  “I will be back later to bring you dinner, I promise.”

When Babette reached for the doorknob, Brielle called to her.

“Babette?  May I ask you a question?”

“But of course, what is it?”

Brielle hesitated before she answered.  “Do…do you think the baby is all right?  I mean, like in heaven or something?" 

Babette smiled warmly.  “I think so.”

Brielle shook her head.  “Ridiculous, childish question, I know.”

“ _Non_ , not at all,” Babette emphasized.  “In fact, if I know my maman…she is taking care of him – or her – until you get there.”

Brielle beamed as though Babette had given her the world.

“ _Merci, mon amie_ ,” she said, happier than Babette had seen in a long time.

“ _C’est de rien._ ”

**ooo**

Two weeks was all the time that Trouble needed to rear its head.  Thankfully, however, it chose the girls’ day of freedom from D’Araignée’s tyranny – the ever-glorious Saturday when D’Araignée went out to do her weekly errands – to make an appearance among them.

“Babette deserves everything she got for trusting Fifi,” Aubrey grumbled stubbornly, taking a swig of wine she had snuck from the kitchen.  “We warned her that Fifi would turn on her, she ignored us, and now has to deal with it.”

Across from her, Odette smacked the table in frustration.  She understood in the beginning of this mess, considering the disdain between Aubrey and Fifi, but this was getting ridiculous.

“Can you just tell me when this is going to end?” Odette hissed quietly.  “Or are you so blind to the fact that Babette was clearly not comfortable through it all by your hatred towards Fifi?  Something is not right, I know it, but how are we ever going to find out if you don’t stop this?”

“Babette knows that she could always come to us for anything; she _knows_ that,” Aubrey replied, unaffected.  “Instead she turned on us and went to the enemy.”

“Only you would be so stubborn and pigheaded to see it that way,” Odette retaliated, although regretting her words moments later.  “I’m sorry…I didn’t mean – “

But it was too late for apologies.  Aubrey merely glared at her before shoving herself away from the table and moving to sit in a nearby corner with only her wine for company.  Odette said nothing to stop her, knowing better than that.  When Aubrey forced herself away from a provocation, it was best to leave her alone, or else risk angering her to the point of viciousness.

It was best to just focus on Babette and finding the truth, and when the girl passed by the table moments later, Odette had no qualms about reaching out to pull her to a stop.

“Sit down, we need to talk.”

Babette shook her head.  “Not now, I have to get my work done before Madame – “

“Now,” Odette interrupted sharply.  Once Babette flopped into the vacant chair, crossing her arms and not making eye contact, Odette continued, “This has to stop.”

“I do not know what you mean." 

“The hell you don’t.  This has gone on for long enough, and now I want your honest word.  What really happened between you and Fifi?”

Babette bit her lip.  Part of her wanted desperately to just tell someone at long last.  She knew she could trust Odette with her life, but…a promise was still a promise.  Brielle did not get this far without trouble to have someone possibly overhear their conversation and rat her out.

“I…can not tell you,” Babette replied, her voice pained.

Odette sighed, exasperated.  “Why not?  You have always told me things, no matter how bad they were; why is this so different?”  When Babette did not answer, Odette asked persistently, “It is not about the Vicomte is it?  Did she try to take him from you?”

Babette shook her head.

“Then _what_ is going on?”

Babette swallowed nervously.  “Y-you must promise me that Madame will never know.  Swear it.”

“You have my word.”

Taking a deep breath, Babette leaned in closely and explained the entire story from start to finish.

“…Fifi told us that if D’Araignée found out, Brielle would have been thrown out, and I could not let that happen,” Babette said, on the verge of tears, feeling both a sense of relief and betrayal.  “And since Fifi was her only chance, I did what had to be done…”

Only at that moment did Babette see an odd expression in Odette’s eyes, a mix of understanding, pity, and anger.

“What?” Babette asked cautiously.

Odette took her turn at breathing deeply.  “Babette…what made you think that was what would happen?”

Babette shrugged.  “Well no one ever knows it seems; no one ever talks about it.  And was there not a girl a while ago who was dismissed for the same reason?  That is the only time I ever heard anyone bring up the idea, but we never saw her again…right?”

Odette looked at her in confusion before realization struck.  “You mean when you first came here?  Danielle?”

Babette nodded.

“ _Mon Dieu_ ,” Odette whispered under her breath, hiding her face in her hands.

“Odette, what is it?” Babette asked, confused and urgent.

“Babette, Danielle…ran off with the child’s father, her patron,” Odette replied slowly after a brief pause.  “After D’Araignée gave her the choice.”

“Choice?  I do not understand.”

“And I prayed you would never have to; it isn’t a pleasant thought,” Odette said gently.  “A baby, _chérie_ , is quite a common thing around here, but we really just don’t talk about it openly.  It’s not exactly the ‘bundle of joy’ news as it is for other women.  But what Fifi told you…sweetie, she was wrong.”

Babette looked at her, stunned upon feeling a sense of dread consume her.  “What?”

“When one of the girls finds out she is expecting, Madame always gives them what we call ‘the choice.’  Either a visit to the angel maker like Brielle, which Madame encourages, or…otherwise, if the mother chooses to continue through to the end.  She works until she begins to show, and then gets the same consequences that you have now, work to earn her keep for as long as Madame sees fit.  When the mother has the baby, Madame sees to it that a family takes it in, for a fee.”  As a sarcastic afterthought, Odette added, “Anything to make a bit of money, as usual.”

“So you mean…Brielle could have avoided all of this?” Babette asked, dangerously quiet.  “None of this would have had to happen?”

Odette nodded, but immediately jumped from her chair after Babette did the same.

“Where are you going?” she asked hastily.  “Babette, don’t do anything that you – “

But as Babette made her way towards Fifi, who was seated cozily amongst her group of hang-ons, and tore the blond menace away, Odette realized the rest of the warning was in vain.

Fifi, on the other hand, glared daggers at her rival.  “What do you think you are doing?”

“What I should have done long ago,” Babette snarled, hurling her fist to strike the older girl.

Sure enough, this simple reaction immediately turned what was a floor of pleasure and passion into a fighters’ ring, and the other girls gathered around, encouraging the combatants.  Fists with fingers curled into claws scratched and pulled at whatever Babette or Fifi could get their hands on, be it limb or hair.  When they were both close to bruising black and blue, Odette shoved her way through the mass of spectators, trying to be the force of reason, but it was only when Aubrey shockingly joined her that they were able to pry the two apart.

“Let me go!” Fifi cried, struggling roughly in Aubrey’s hold, grimacing all the while across at Babette, who was being restrained by Odette.  “She is out of her mind!”

“You lied to me, and you know it!” Babette screeched in accusation, fighting to free herself.  “You could have killed her!”

Fifi’s face went pale, but keeping the story in her favor, she only stared at Babette blankly.  “Jealousy, that is all she knows!  She has truly gone mad from it!”

“ _Liar!!_ ”

Before Fifi could respond again, however, Aubrey gave her a good shove, quickly dragging her into another room.

“What the hell are you trying to pull?” Aubrey snarled, shutting the door before holding Fifi tightly by the throat against a wall.

“How can I answer…?” Fifi gasped angrily, trailing off as her breath was giving out.

Aubrey unwillingly released her.  “Brielle did nothing to you, and yet you walked her right into LaCharde’s hands?  Just to even your score with Babette?  That is low even for you!”

“If you and Odette had taught Babette where she belonged from her first day, _away_ from my place in the lights…!”

“Don’t you get it?” Aubrey interrupted her.  “Not everyone is like your pathetic little lackeys who cater to your every whim!  You should have just left Babette and the kid alone!”

“They both had it coming to them,” Fifi countered without a trace of remorse.  “This will teach them who are the Fleurettes and who is nothing.”

Aubrey’s hand shot right back to Fifi’s throat.

“Say another word, and I will snap your neck slowly and painfully,” she warned.  In a low whisper she continued, “I have put up with you long enough, simply because of what I promised our mother before she died.”

“You said you’d never hurt family, _oui_ , and look at what you are doing now,” Fifi growled, struggling a bit, but stopped when Aubrey gave her another shove.

“I stopped calling you family long ago,” Aubrey retorted.  “No one would betray her sister the way you did to me.”

“So that is what this is about?  The fact that I did this very same thing to you?”

“Tais toi!” Aubrey shouted.  “That is not important anymore!  The fact is, you got what you wanted; you have your spotlight back!”  Leaning in closer, she added dangerously, “And if I were you, I would enjoy it while I could.  We both know that Odette is taking over this place one day, and when she does…well, I will leave you to ponder that.  In the meantime, those girls are my family, and if you lay one hand on them, or use them in your little schemes ever again, I will hunt you down like the bitch you are.”

Nothing further was said after that, and Aubrey made her way to the main room again, looking for Odette and Babette.  Sure enough, there they were in the corner, alone; Odette must have told everyone to leave them.

When Aubrey reached them, Babette pulled herself away from Odette’s comforting embrace and wiped her eyes.

“I did not mean to hurt you,” she whispered.  “I am so sorry.”

Aubrey shook her head before sitting next to her friend and pulling her close.  “So am I.  I should have listened to you, but I guess I’m just too stubborn and pigheaded,” she replied with a grin to Odette.

Babette took a deep breath to calm down, but her stomach was still turning at the thought of such a betrayal.  Looking both of the girls directly in the eyes, she said, “Brielle can not know; she _must not_.  She did not want to get rid of the baby in the end, and knowing that she really did not have to would destroy her.  Agreed?”

The girls nodded in unison, at last reaching an understanding in every way they needed.

“Agreed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> C’est de rien - It was nothing/another form of "You're welcome"  
> Tais toi! - Shut up!
> 
> Writer's Notes and Memories:  
> Was this satisfying? You better believe it was. One more chapter to go. :)


	14. Bittersweet Ever After

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Babette © Disney  
> All Original Characters © myself

Standing outside the window anxiously, Claude paced back and forth every few minutes waiting for someone to see him there.  This could not wait until opening time; he had to see Brielle now!  

He had been so foolish before!  Sneaking past Babette’s protective watch, Claude had managed to get into Brielle’s room after hearing that she was feeling better.  Brielle had then insisted that they talk, and only at that moment did he learn that she had been expecting a baby and what she had done to get rid of it.  Unfortunately, he had instinctively reacted with anger.

“Damn it, Brielle; how could you not tell me about this?” he had demanded. “As the child’s father, I should have been involved when deciding what was to be done about it!”

He would never forget the look of pain in her eyes, and just thinking about it made his heart ache with agony. Devastated and guilty, she had lashed out.

“That is all you can say?  That you should’ve had a part in the decision?” she had cried.  “I did what had to be done, for me, you, and most importantly for the baby!  Neither it nor I would have survived if I didn’t do this!”

“But it was my child too!”

“Well not anymore it isn’t; not yours or mine actually!  It’s gone, and right now, I think you should follow that lead!” 

Those words had hurt the most, he remembered.  He had stormed off, confused and angry.  How could Brielle do such a thing?

But when he had calmed down, he realized that he was to blame as well. He had never truly expressed to Brielle the depth and sincerity of his love for her. Many men dallied with the showgirls of _La Fleur Noire_ , and to a man, they would have been horrified to learn that their night of pleasure had resulted in a pregnancy – and relieved to discover that the girl had taken care of matters herself, without them having to lift a finger. How was Brielle to know that Claude was different – that he truly did love her and wanted to be with her forever, to share both the joy and the sorrow of life? He could only imagine what a painful decision this had been for her, how truly desperate she must have felt.

Now, he wanted only to hold her close, tell her how sorry he was and that no matter what, he would never leave her side again.

Above all, he would tell her how much he loved her, had done so ever since he had met her.  He and his friends may have gone to _La Fleur Noire_ for a good time months ago, but Claude would always treasure the memory as the night he had met the woman of his dreams. Brielle was not like the other Fleurettes, hardened and brassy and jaded. Even when she danced, there was a sweetness about her, an innocence and vulnerability that touched him. He wanted to protect her, to take her away from his place and give her a better life.

A bit of movement in the window broke his reverie, and he quickly rushed to see who was in the main room.  Much to his dismay, it was Babette.  Wonderful, now he would never get near Brielle!  Babette was far too much of a watchdog presence, though after what had happened, he did not blame her for it.  It would not be easy to convince her to let him see Brielle, but nonetheless, he had to try.

Upon hearing the insistent tapping on the window, Babette scowled at the little scoundrel as she made her way to the door.  When would the pest get the hint?

“What do you want here?” she growled.  “I think even you know that Brielle has been hurt enough.”

Claude swallowed nervously.  He was certainly not a coward, but he was not much of a brave fighter either.

“I know that, but I must see her,” he said, timid though trying to hide it.  As though it would assist him in his persistence, he held up the large bouquet of flowers he had brought.  “I even bought her these, see?”

Babette tried so hard not to laugh.  As much as she could not stand the boy for all the trouble he caused, she had to credit his desperate, naïve pleas.  But overall, he had apparently still not figured out the seriousness of the situation yet.

“You really do not understand, do you?” she asked.  “You do not know how much she had to endure to save herself, not to mention you from a fate that neither of you could handle.  And all you can say is you brought her a few flowers to make things better?”

“Please, just let me see her!” he entreated.  “I didn’t mean what I said that day!  I was just so overwhelmed and upset and…please, I have to make up for my mistakes!  I need to talk to her even if she doesn’t want to talk to me!”

“Babette, it’s all right.”

Both Babette and Claude turned to find Brielle standing in the doorway.  Without a second thought, Claude ran to her, enveloping her in his embrace.  Brielle in turn was all too willing to accept, having heard his every word and holding him tightly to her.

“Brielle, _ma chérie_ , _Dieu_ I’ve missed you!” he murmured, placing sweet, gentle kisses into her hair.  “I’m so sorry; I never wanted to upset you.  I swear, if only I’d known – “

“No, don’t,” she whispered.  “You were right; I should have told you what happened in the beginning.”  Gently, she rested her head on his shoulder, relieved to be back in his arms again after she thought she had lost him forever.  “Just promise that you will never leave me again, ever!”

“Shh, I promise.  I swear, if I’d have known, we could’ve made it work,” he said, rubbing her back soothingly.  Pulling away slightly, he held her face tenderly in his hands, looking directly into her eyes.  “And that is what I came to talk to you.  Dieu, Brielle, you know that how I feel about you, so much that no matter where I am or what I am doing, I can only think of you.”  He paused, nervously, before he spoke again.  “And…that is why I need to ask you something…very important.”

Brielle looked at him for a long moment, gradually breaking into a smile.  “You do?” she asked.  “Really?”

Claude nodded, leaning down to kiss her, when they both heard Babette clear her throat behind them.

“Pardon, you two,” she said.  “But in case you have seemed to forget I was here…?”

Both of them blushed bright red, and Brielle raced to her side.

“Babette, I just need a few minutes alone with him.  Cover for me, please?  Only for a little while?” Brielle asked.

Babette glanced over at Claude, and for the first time, she smiled genuinely at the boy…no, not a boy, very much a young man.  She had heard all that she needed to hear to be assured of what would happen from there.  Everything would be all right.

“All right, I will,” she said.  Adding with a small wink and a grin, she added teasingly, “But do not let me see any funny business, or else I call for Aubrey and the two of us will send that boy running!”

Brielle hugged her quickly.  “Fair enough, _mon amie, merci_!” she laughed, running to rejoin Claude, the couple walking off to find a place to talk.

Babette stood by for a moment, sighing almost wistfully…until a pair of familiar arms drew her close.

“Do not even think about distracting me, Lucien de Bontecou,” she said with a subtle smirk, not even having to turn around to know it was her lover.

“And exactly why not?  I happen to know that you love being distracted,” Lucien murmured in her ear, before taking special care of the area with his kisses.

Babette had to force herself to not to swoon with desire, although the minute Lucien felt her giving in to his advances, he gathered her in his arms to carry her around back.

“Stop that!” she shrieked playfully, laughing in spite of herself.  “I am serious, amour; I need to play the watchful eye right now.”

“For who?” he asked, drawing her close around the waist.

“Brielle and that little beau of hers.  You are not making it easy!”

“Oh, just let them be,” he said, nipping at her throat.  “Besides, hypocrisy does not suit you very well.”

“Oh really?” she gasped, her arms slowly creeping around his neck.  “And what exactly does Monsieur mean by that?”

She wanted to hate him for his next move, clearly fighting unfairly for her attention.  He knew she was weak to his pleasurable yet gentle caresses, his warm passionate kisses, and as much as she tried to pry away, there was no chance of her succeeding.

“Damn you,” she huskily whispered, an amused grin playing about her lips.

Lucien smiled adorably.  “That is exactly what I mean.  You would deny a girl something that you know you yourself enjoy _immensely_?”

“This coming from a man who once teased me for not being modest.”

Lucien merely laughed before growing a little more serious.  “Do not trouble yourself so much, ma belle fille,” he said soothingly.  “They will be all right.”

“Believe me, it is not as simple for them as it is for us,” Babette replied.

“Why is that?” he asked.

Babette sighed with a gentle smile, not wanting to recount what happened with him.  She only had one night every week with Lucien, and the last thing she needed was to have the mood ruined by matters like this.

“It is nothing, _mon cher_ ,” she said reassuringly.  “Brielle is like a sister to me, and I guess I just worry too much about her.  Just promise we can check in on them in a little while, _s’il vous plait_?  For me?”

“Anything you wish, _chérie_ ,” he said truthfully.  “If it will make you feel better, then we will.”

Babette nodded before breaking into her famous coquettish smirk again.  “It most certainly does, and for being so sweet, I suppose you deserve some kindness in return,” she said playfully.  “One advantage of dancing early in the evening is the longer amount of time I have to do a… _personal_ encore for you.”

“And I will definitely thank you properly for it when you do,” Lucien replied, stealing one last kiss before taking her hand in his.  “Come on, let’s go in.”

Babette leaned against him, beaming brightly.  Despite everything that had occurred in her life, she could honestly admit that she was quite grateful for it.  Good friends, wonderful enough to call her true family, and a loving man like Lucien made every minute, good and bad, worth the journey to where she was today.  Years ago, as a frightened young girl sold into this place, she never would have imagined that it would bring her so much.

Still, the fact remained that _La Fleur Noire_ would never be a true home, and as much as she loved the girls, she still longed for the day when Lucien would come to her permanently.  It would happen, it just had to.  Someday soon, she knew he would once again change her life forever, racing down the road atop Noblesse and proclaim that he would not leave without her at his side for eternity.

But until then, the life she led, that of a legendary Fleurette, was not one that she would ever forget or bemoan.  Good always comes from the bad.  Babette knew that now, and as she rested contently in Lucien’s arms that night, she smiled, truly happy for everything good that would only get better.

**The End**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writer's Notes and Memories:  
> Well then, we're at the end of another story, but this is just the beginning! The Romance series is 4 main books long, along with a one-shot that falls into its storyline. Questionable Romance is next, and brings in the elements of BatB. So please stay tuned to continue the tales!

**Author's Note:**

> Translations:  
> La Fleur Noire - The Black Flower  
> Absolument - Absolutely  
> Exactamente - Exactly
> 
> Writer's Notes and Memories:  
> ~ La Fleur Noire itself was heavily based on the Moulin Rouge, but it certainly wasn't as flashy and flamboyant. I always pictured it as something darker, almost sinister. The best comparison that I can make these days is the Sunshade Tavern in Octopath Traveler. The main room is large with tables, a bar, and a stage for the dancers. Just add in enough room to dance, a la a dance floor, and upstairs rooms for the girls.
> 
> ~ Madame D’Araignée is actually a musical theatre reference! In the musical Jekyll & Hyde (the sister show to my beloved Scarlet Pimpernel), the place where Lucy dances is run by a gentleman named The Spider. Thus the inspiration for our madam here.


End file.
